Can't Be Up To Me
by BeLikeWater
Summary: Despite his best efforts, Stark finds her creeping into his thoughts all the time, and April's realizing that the thump from her fall out of his good graces hurts more than she'd expected. I dropped the rating back down to T...for now.
1. Chapter 1

****** _Author's Note: April/Stark. This initially picks up where "White Wedding" left off. ****_**

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Despite his best efforts, Stark finds her creeping into his thoughts all the time. Tonight is worse than usual. The day was over, there was only a small amount of incomplete paperwork standing between himself and sleep, but his tired brain wouldn't stop replaying the scene on the stairs from earlier today. He pulled off his reading glasses, tossing them on the desk. His nagging conscience was making it impossible to focus.

He hadn't lied to her – he _was _trying his damnedest to treat her like any other resident. He'd meant it when he said sexual harassment wasn't his style. He was doing an excellent job of not favoring or disfavoring her in any way. Wasn't he? Perhaps too much so - he was being just as mean to her as he would be to anyone else, but April wasn't anyone else. Stark leaned back in his chair tiredly, wishing he could lean away from his own scattered thoughts. She was too sensitive, too caring. The same earnestness that had motivated her to risk his wrath to change his mind about Kyle - the very trait he should resent for ultimately resulting in his current sorry state - was also the reason that he felt vaguely guilty for treating her like any other idiot resident.

When he was being entirely honest with himself, there was a part of him that delighted in seeing the look of betrayal and hurt that she couldn't quite keep off her face. He wasn't proud of it, but there was a certain relief in knowing that even if it wasn't the one he wanted, he could still have some effect on her. With a sigh, he slumped forward onto his elbows, cradling the dull ache in his forehead with one hand and massaging the bridge of his nose with the other.

When she'd stopped answering his pages, he'd reluctantly resolved to be marginally nicer to her next time. She deserved to at least have reasonable certainty that he wasn't trying to retaliate after her rejection. He was treating her rudely not just because she'd hurt him but because ...well, because he was in the habit of being rude to most people. On days like these, he intensely regrets ever having made an exception for her, ever letting her know - ever letting himself know - that he could be different.

And maybe he couldn't be different - that habit had certainly taken over when he found her in the kitchen. It had mangled his attempt to express the concern he had over her HIV exposure, making April even more angry with him over what she interpreted as patronizing ridicule. He was still surprised - and a little impressed - that she'd snapped back at him so impertinently, but he couldn't really blame her for it. Hell, he couldn't even truly blame her for deciding he wasn't worthy of her.

It wasn't her fault that he was an unlovable crank, but he did blame her a little for the fact that he could no longer ignore how empty his life was. The contrast of her kindness and optimism - something he knew didn't come easy in their line of work - made it impossible to ignore how wretched he'd let himself become. And if she hadn't watered the dry seeds of hope in his heart with a glimpse of what it would be like to have something more, maybe he would have been able to just keep focusing on the work, the way that he had for years.

Catching himself moping, Stark straightened his spine and picked up his pen. Irritated, he chastises himself for even thinking of her feelings. It's ridiculous to be contemplating how his churlishness may have harmed a relationship that's never going to go anywhere anyway. Bending over his desk once again, he recommitted himself to the forms in front of him. He would just have to stay busy and continue to ignore her until this maudlin phase passed.

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_****** Here the story timeline skips to after the season seven finale, where April is named chief resident. ******_

April had hidden her reflexive little cringe when Baily told her she would be on Stark's service today. It's the first time in weeks. That's how long she's had to get over it, but replaying the memory of Stark's seething anger at her first impulsive outburst still makes her cheeks flush with shame. She herself had called him the grinch for the way he treated his residents (and everyone else), she should have known better than to question whether or not he was treating her differently.

Instead, she had accused of him of acting unprofessionally, when it was she that had been acting unprofessionally. God, she had even been outright rude to him even when he'd had a legitimate reason to be irritated that she hadn't reported back to him about his patients.

Though she won't deny that the incredulous look on his face had given her – still gives her - a mean thrill of satisfaction. It felt good to slap at him a little, after feeling slapped around by him for so long. The thump from her fall out of his good graces had hurt more than she'd expected.

She missed him, she thought now as she picked up charts to go over before rounds. Not, she quickly insisted to herself, because she liked him as anything more than a friend. No, she just wished he would stop being so all or nothing about this. It would just be nice, for example, to have one person honestly happy for her over winning chief resident, instead of bitter and resentful. Not that she didn't appreciate Jackson trying - he'd been great, just after the news broke. But he was soon distracted by his continuing infatuation with Lexie, and wasn't interested in hearing about her struggles to meet all her new responsibilities.

But then, she doubted Dr. Stark would have much time for it either. Before she cancelled on him, he'd been an attentive listener, encouraging her to talk about herself and even giving her tips on surviving residency and becoming a better doctor. But his outrage at her accusation, and his scorn of her attempts to comfort Asha, had made it abundantly clear that he thought she was frivolous and immature. She sighs, pushing it out of her mind to focus on reading. The last thing she needed was for Dr. Stark to think she wasn't prepared for the work day.

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><p>Hours later, Stark breathed a sigh of relief as she walked away. He'd managed to have a morning with her that was as uneventful as it was long. Thankfully, he'd never broken his droll detachment. She'd been bland and professional, showing no hint of the quirky humor or tender compassion that, weeks ago, had made him feel perilously close to pining. Maybe, he thought as he headed toward his office for lunch, he was starting to get over this whole disastrous affair. It couldn't happen too quickly.<p>

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><p>April blew out a breath in exasperation. She'd expended a lot of emotional energy being careful around Stark, and she'd been looking forward to a quiet few minutes of relaxation while savoring the daily special of chicken carbonara, but they were out already. She contemplated the remaining choices under the cafeteria heat lamps, finding nothing appetizing.<p>

"I recommend avoiding the meatloaf if you can. Last time I got stuck eating it due to a late lunch, I thought it was worse than the gruel they fed us in the Army."

She turned around to see Dr. Hunt smiling good-naturedly at her, and flashed a smile in return. "I think I will," she said, serving herself some lukewarm roasted vegetables, lumpy mashed potatoes, and as an afterthought, grabbing a couple of yogurts for at least a little protein.

"Excellent decision, chief resident," he teased, over-enunciating the title. "No matter how high your station in life, you're never above taking good advice."

She laughed, and nodded in agreement as she swiped her meal card at the register.

"So," he continued, as he followed her to a table, "how are you enjoying your new-found authority?"

April hesitated, trying to figure out how best to respond. "Well," she said cautiously as she sat down and peeled back the foil on a yogurt cup, "I really appreciate the opportunity to try and implement some of the error-reducing methods I've been reading about."

"Why just try?" he asked, grabbing the condiment caddy. "Is there something you can't figure out about the administrative processes? I might be able to help with that."

"Oh, no," April stammered, cursing her word choice. "I just, um, you know, everyone's still transitioning to, to me having the job, but I'm sure - once they get used to it, I mean - people will be more, more conscientious about the checklists and things, once we're, ah, back to a routine."

Owen regarded her shrewdly as she nervously dragged a spoon around the cup in her hands, making a study out of thoroughly scooping out every corner.

"You know, I have to admit, when Dr. Stark first recommended you, I did wonder how you'd handle the discipline." Hunt swiped a french fry though ketchup and popped it whole into his mouth, briefly too focused on his food to notice April's mouth drop open. "You've never had Dr. Bailey's swagger." April's jaw clenched back shut at the implication that she was a pushover.

"But from what I hear," he said, sounding pleased, "you've been firm in all your decisions, and even reassigned Karev twice and threatened to put Christina on scut." He looked a little too happy about his wife's misfortune. "And I doubt Meredith's giving you a hard time, considering she's still on probation," he added, seemingly as an afterthought. "It won't take them long to figure out you're serious, and then I think you'll have an easier time of it than if you'd been more aggressive, because they won't have a real reason to resent you other than their own disappointment in not getting tapped for it themselves."

"I - yeah, probably," April agreed distractedly. "Did you say that Dr. Stark recommended me?"

"Yeah, he did," said Hunt, missing her expression again as he enthusiastically finished off the last of his fries and started working on the chicken nuggets. "I was a little surprised too, he's always seemed like a bit of a grouch, some of the things he says to you residents border on verbal abuse." He chuckled, clearly not overly concerned for their welfare. "But despite his attitude, he clearly has a very high opinion of you. He said - " Hunt broke off as his pager buzzed. Checking the display, he said, "Damn it, gotta run, sorry, can you take care of my tray?"

April just watched, feeling dazed, as he jumped up and exited the room at a light jog. Stark had recommended her? She could hardly believe that - and it had to have happened when he was treating her the worst, since the other residents had only fallen into disgrace shortly before Dr. Hunt's decision. She was dying to know just what he'd said - and she wasn't likely to find out anytime soon. Dr. Hunt probably wouldn't remember this conversation, let alone bring it up again even if he did, and April knew she couldn't ask.

April's pulse quickened as her mind continued to tilt at this revelation. How would she be able to act normally around Dr. Stark for the rest of the day, knowing this? But she didn't know anything at all. What did this mean?

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_****** Please review. ******_


	2. Chapter 2

Five hours later, April shifted her weight from one leg to the other for the umpteenth time. She'd been in surgery with Dr. Stark for not even half an hour, but she hadn't once been able to sit down since lunch, and her legs muscles were stiff. If she'd been assisting, she would barely have noticed the aching fatigue, but he was just having her watch.

She let her eyes drift upward from the operating table to his face. His eyes behind his surgical glasses were intent, paying careful attention to the movements he was making inside the abdomen of a six month old boy. She watched him carefully as his eyebrows relaxed for a second before they furrowed again as he worked on their tiny patient. It figures that the time he'd be least likely to notice her staring, more than half of his face is covered by a surgical mask.

She'd been sneaking looks at him all afternoon, scrutinizing his face to see if it held the explanation for why he would have recommended her. One useful side effect of never having been in a serious relationship is that she'd had no chance to get all self-absorbed and love-obsessed about someone. People missed a lot when they were distracted by infatuation and that new relationship stage, but April saw almost everything, and had actually gotten decently good at reading people over the years, when she tried.

But she couldn't read him today, with his bland stares, even questions, and measured responses. Actually, was it just today? She thought back, trying to remember the last time she'd been able to discern his emotions just by observing him. Certainly not when he'd first asked out her out - she'd been so taken by surprise that now she couldn't quite recall his expression. And she hadn't been able to guess what he'd been thinking when he shut her down and brushed her off after she'd told him that he was winning more friends at the hospital.

The only emotions of his that she'd seen lately were scorn and rage. The other residents thought that those were the only feelings he ever had. April had never quite convinced them of the nice man underneath all that ego and prickliness, but she'd seen it. Their dates had been great - once they'd both relaxed a little, the conversation had been wonderful and the silences had not been awkward, but easy.

But, she thought, despite all the talking they'd done over dinner and drinks, she hadn't entirely known what he was thinking then either. She had just decided they were friends, but he'd contradicted that just after she had let Alex, of all people, convince her that a movie at his place meant sex.

April's eyes dropped back down to the operating table, wondering anew if Alex had been right, or if, as she suspected was more likely, she'd been a fool to believe him and the other interns. Either way, Robert - Dr. Stark, she corrected herself mentally – hadn't exactly been broadcasting his intentions.

He'd been kind, opening doors for her and listening to her, but he'd been pretty inscrutable. He smiled at her often, unforced smiles with no malice or sarcasm behind them, but those smiles had held no clue about sexual attraction. He'd never even kissed her, after weeks of dating! And yet... he did once say she was "very beautiful". Something in her chest fluttered a bit remembering that flattery.

She risked another glance at him now, wondering if he still had feelings for her, if that had been why he'd recommended her to Dr. Hunt. Dr. Stark had certainly never said anything very complimentary to her about her skills - he wasn't even letting her assist now on a fairly simple umbilical hernia repair! She gazed mournfully down at the operating table. Her right leg throbbed beneath her, and she sighed a little as she shifted to her left.

"Bored, Dr. Kepner?" His dry, slightly sneering voice had her straightening and trying to look diligently observant as she continued to watch his hands make slow, considered moves inside of the infant.

"No, not at all. I'm learning quite a bit by observing." April held her breath and hoped that he wouldn't get more caustic.

"Are you sure?" he asked mildly. "I've finished removing the hernia sack, and since you haven't been able to assist me yet, I was going to offer to let you do reinforce the abdominal wall and close up by yourself, but if you're quite fascinated just by watching..." He pulled his mouth to the side a little in a half-smirk without looking away from their patient.

"Ohh-oh," April stuttered, "I just meant, it's a priviledge to be watching you work, that - that one can never learn all that a more experienced surgeon has to teach, and - "

"Oh, stop it already," Dr. Stark said, rolling his eyes. "Just get in here."

April stepped forward eagerly, forgetting her earlier thoughts as she focused on the operating table.

Stark watched her work closely for several minutes, noting that she asked for the appropriate gauge of mesh, and was careful in her movements. He relaxed a bit as she finished reinforcing the abdominal wall and started closing. She had this.

And so, it would seem, did he. He was pleased with himself - he'd remained stoic and mild all afternoon despite her uncomfortably close proximity, and their working relationship seemed to be back on an even keel.

"All done!" April chirped. "Did I miss anything? Would you have done anything differently?"

"No, you did fine work," replied Stark, stepping back. "Let's scrub out, let the nurses get him to recovery, and update the parents." He shouldered open the door to the scrub room, stripped off his gloves, and ran the water.

April entered behind him, moving a little slower. At the sink, as she reached for the soap, she glanced sidways at his profile.

"Thank you, Dr. Stark," she said.

"No need to thank me," he said without looking up. "It's my job to help you learn, no better way than by doing."

April stared at the soap bubbles surrounding her hands for a second. Reaching out to hold them under the running water, she abruptly decided to be direct about what was on her mind.

"Yes, but thank you anyway. And..." She steeled herself. "And, thank you for recommending me to Dr. Hunt." As the last few words tumbled off her lips, she turned her head to watch his reaction.

Though she'd said the words quietly, his head and shoulders jerked forward just slightly, as if he'd been startled by a loud noise. But he remained silent, head bent slightly over the sink, so after a few seconds she pressed on. "I was surprised," she said, "when I found out. After our last case together, I didn't think..." her voice faltered as he turned away, but he grabbed two hand towels, and turned back to pass her one.

"You're a good doctor. You have good ideas." he said simply, still looking down as he dried his hands. "Don't mistake me," and now he looked her straight in the eye, causing her heart to skip a beat as his voice became irritated and he tossed the towel away. "You get too emotionally involved with your patients, and you're distracted easily, and if you don't learn to control that, one day it _will _bite you in the ass." He paused, scowling, and her mind flashed back to that painful moment when she'd realized she'd distractedly killed someone's mother.

As if he knew what she was thinking - but she hadn't told him about that little blip in her career, she'd been too embarrassed - his voice went soft. "But no doctor can be perfect, and you deserved chief resident as much as anyone else." He held her gaze for just a fraction of a second more, wondering why she didn't seem to believe she could be competitive with her peers, then turned away, saying dryly, "You're very good at your job, Dr. Kepner. So go do it, go tell that boy's parents that he'll be fine."

With that, he left, leaving April standing dumbly, still holding the towel in her wet hands.

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_****** Please review. ******_


	3. Chapter 3

April spent the rest of her shift wondering if what Dr. Stark had told her were the same words he'd given Dr. Hunt, but it wasn't until she was alone in the locker room, changing into her street clothes, that she allowed herself to replay the memory in order to savor the compliment.

The best part was how simply he'd said it, she thought, pulling off her scrub shirt. She liked that about him, she always had - when he wasn't being sarcastic, he was sincere, direct. No games. It was a welcome change from the drama and passive-aggressive self-interest of the other residents. The fact that he thought she was a good doctor, worth recommending to another doctor, gave her a warm glow.

There was a bit of chagrin mixed in with the flattery. He always had to have the last word, didn't he? Just walking out before she had a chance to process or respond. April frowned in thought as she kicked into jeans and wriggled them up around her waist.

He really was trying to treat her fairly, she decided. He'd been honestly insulted on the stairs, and he'd been professional and distant all day. She half-smiled, realizing that made his opinion of her skill even less suspect, but she didn't feel as relieved about that as she should. She caught where her thoughts were headed, and dismissed them with an impatient shake of her head as she buckled her belt. She didn't feel that way about Stark. She was only happy about his words because she'd be happy about those words coming from any skilled attending. Now that she was chief resident, supervisor to all of her friends, uncomplicated relationships with her colleagues would be even harder to come by, she was thankful to avoid complications where she could. She slammed her locker shut just a little harder than necessary, grabbed her bag, and left the room.

She was walking down the hall, looking forward to getting home, when a female voice called out her name. "Dr. Kepner!"

April turned around and saw the chief's assistant walking briskly toward her. April tried to appear pleasant as she said, "Yes?"

"The chief wants to see you before you start your shift tomorrow," the woman said, taking a pen off the clipboard that she carried and holding it poised above the paper. "Shall I tell him you're able to come in half an hour early to meet with him?" She met April's eyes, waiting.

A small tremor of fear rippled through her torso as April wondered why the chief would want to see her. Had she screwed something up again? But it was clear that now was not the time to ask for details, the chief's assistant just wanted a yes or a no. "Ahh, sure," she said quickly, forcing what she hoped was a confident smile.

The chief's assistant just nodded, made a mark on her clipboard, and tucking the pen back underneath the clasp, walked away without another word. April let the smile fall from her face as she turned to go home.

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><p>Her shoulder muscles finally relaxed as she turned her key in the lock back at the house. Things might still be awkward at work after her recent promotion, but here she could hide out in her room whenever she wasn't eating. At the thought of eating, her stomach rumbled, announcing her hunger.<p>

She turned towards the kitchen just as Meredith came bounding down the stairs, Zola in her arms.

"April!" Meredith said, expressing uncharacteristic exuberance as she followed April into the kitchen.

"Hey," April said, a genuine smile spreading across her face in response to the sight. Meredith looked surprisingly cute and natural with a baby in her arms, and Zola was pretty endearing all by herself.

April hadn't pressed Meredith for any explanations about that eventful day a few weeks ago when Derek and Alex left, Christina and Zola showed up, and Meredith had been suspended. She'd heard some rumors about the Alzheimer's trial, and from the way Alex's room had been cleaned out, she guessed he'd been involved in that mess somehow, but she hadn't actually asked Meredith for any details. She was dying to know what was going on, but by now she knew better than to pry - Meredith would talk about it when Meredith was good and ready, and until then, Meredith would just get pissed at any intrusion.

So for the past few weeks, April had just kept up a light chatter with her roommate. Just enough to maintain the friendship they'd managed to forge over the past year, and remind Meredith that she was here, not pressuring, but available.

Now, April settled on a question that would allow Meredith to answer as shallowly or as deeply as she wanted. "How was your day off?" She grabbed milk from the fridge, too tired to consider actually cooking, and opened the pantry to hunt for cereal.

"It was good," said Meredith, sounding cautiously optimistic. "Zola and I caught up on some laundry, went to the park, and then had a fantastic nap together, didn't we, baby girl?" She looked down at Zola and bounced the baby on her hip, eliciting a happy gurgle. April grinned again at the two of them as she got a bowl out of the cupboard. In the first few days that Zola had been at the house, Meredith had been stressed out, clearly worrying over Derek and her job and struggling to adjust to the routines of an infant. But about a week in to her suspension, a change had come over her. Motherhood agreed with her, April thought. She seemed more balanced, more grounded, than ever before.

Meredith looked back up at April, giving an easy smile now. "How was yours?"

"Oh, it was fine," said April automatically, pouring milk over her banana nut crunch. She turned away briefly, putting the jug back. She brightened as she remembered her small success in the OR. "Actually, I helped Dr. Stark repair an umbilical hernia on a six month old this afternoon, he let me reinforce the abdominal wall and close all by myself."

A look of irritation passed over Meredith's face, and April winced. She'd forgotten for a moment that Meredith hadn't been allowed to even stand in the operating room yet since her suspension. "Sorry, I just-"

"No, it's fine," Meredith cut her off, rolling her eyes self-deprecatingly. "I'll get back in there eventually." She looked determined, if depressed. She walked over to Zola's high chair and started buckling her in.

"Oh, definitely," April said, injecting the slightly cocky faith into her own voice that was missing from her friend's. She picked up her bowl and followed Meredith to the table. "Probably sooner than you think." She sat down and picked up her spoon. Maybe if she kept her mouth full, she wouldn't put her foot in it again.

"So..." Meredith started, opening a cabinet and grabbing a jar of baby food. "Actually, speaking of sooner than I think, Derek and I talked some more today, and we're moving back in together."

April struggled to swallow her mouthful of cereal. "Oh my gosh, that's great!" she enthused. "That really is fantastic, Meredith, I'm so happy that you guys will be back to normal."

"Well," Meredith said dryly, twisting the cap off the baby food with a pop, "I don't know about normal." She hesitated. "Actually, he's made it clear that he expects some things to be different this time." She smirked suddenly. "Like, no more ruining his ground-breaking trials without asking first."

April laughed a little, surprised that she'd come right out and said it, and with humor. "That seems fair."

Meredith smiled ruefully. "Yeah," she said. "it is. The other thing is..." she hesitated, looking uncomfortable.

"I'm sure it's worth it," April said, trying to reassure her. "Whatever he's asking, if it means you can be a family again, that's worth it, right?"

"I - yeah," Meredith said reluctantly. She sighed. "Look, April, I'm sorry, but that was kind of his point, that we're a family now." She smiled half-heartedly at Zola as the baby leaned forward in her high chair to meet the incoming spoon of pureed fruit. She met April's eyes again and finished bluntly, "the day after he left, he put a rush on the construction of the new house, and it'll be finished - well, livable, at least - in a week. He wants us to move out there as soon as possible, start fresh."

April nodded. "That makes sense." She wondered why Meredith looked so awkward, then the other shoe dropped. "Will...will everyone just continue to rent from you, then?"

Meredith dipped the baby spoon into the jar again. "Actually," she began diplomatically, "Lexie told me last night that she and Jackson are moving out at the end of the month. I guess they're ready for a place of their own, and they just found a one bedroom that's not too far from the hospital."

"Oh," April said blankly. That was a bit of a surprise. Despite finding them dry-humping each other around every corner, she hadn't realized they were that serious yet.

"Yeah. Who knows if that will last, but they're giving it a shot," Meredith said dryly. "And Christina went home for good two days ago, she and Owen are...well, they're not fighting anymore."

"That's great, good for them," April said slowly, doing the math. "And Alex isn't coming back, is he," she said suddenly. It wasn't a question.

"No," was all Meredith said, but her lips thinned in a clear warning that she didn't want to talk about that.

So she was the only one left. April felt suddenly numb. It didn't matter, really, whether or not Meredith would let her stay in this house or whether she'd have to move. She'd suddenly be living alone either way. She'd taken for granted the security of having a home filled with people, even annoying ones who made out on the couch too often and made fun of her for dating an older attending.

"Anyway," Meredith continued, "I don't really know what to do with the house. Derek and I don't need the money, and I don't want to rent it out, just - just in case." Meredith looked a bit uneasy, but her eyes narrowed at April over the baby food, telegraphing that as far as history was concerned, she'd never said that last bit. "So I figured I'd let you decide whether you want to stay or go." She shrugged one shoulder, and lifted another lump of baby food toward Zola. "Your rent wouldn't have to change, and you'd have the whole place to yourself, for the most part...I'd store my mom's stuff in one of the smaller bedrooms, for now."

"Oh, wow," April said slowly, trying to figure out how to feel. "I-I don't know. I mean, that's really nice of you, to let me stay here, but I - well, it's an awful lot of house for just one person," she finished doubtfully.

Meredith smiled faintly. "Yeah, believe me, I know. You don't have to decide anytime soon," she said reassuringly. "You can just keep living here until you don't want to anymore, really."

April forced a smile, nodding in agreement, but couldn't think of anything to say.

"Even after the moving trucks come next week, I'll be here now and then," Meredith continued, clearly feeling guilty, "and of course you'll see me at the hospital almost every day. Plus," she added, "even though we're further away from the hospital now, it's not like we're moving cross-country, we'll barely be outside city limits."

"Yeah, we'll see how it goes," April said, trying to sound upbeat. She didn't want to be seen as the lonely, abandoned girl. "I might love it, you know? Even with the house being so big. I've been kind of wanting to move out on my own anyway," she fibbed. "You know, just have more time to myself, always being able to watch what I want on tv, never having to deal with someone else's mess." She grinned at Meredith, hoping she was buying her act.

"Yeah, well, don't start loving your alone time too much. You'll come over for dinner a lot," Meredith said firmly, taking her by surprise.

"I will?" April asked reflexively.

"Yeah. I mean, I still hate you for getting chief resident," Meredith said, flattening her voice and raising an eyebrow. Then she smiled, and her voice regained its signature lilt. "But I'll only hate you at work, because I'm going to need all the friends I can get to come visit me, keep me from going crazy from living in the freakin' woods."

She looked repulsed at the very idea, and April laughed. Zola, delighted at the sound, clapped her hands and squealed, dissolving what was left of the tension. Meredith turned back to the baby, laughing too, and stuck her hand into the high chair to tickle her stomach. Zola squealed again, and Meredith gushed at her, "You are too cute! Yes, you, ya little clapper."

April laughed again, delighting in seeing her friend reduced to baby talk.

Meredith looked back at her, catching the look of amusement. "Oh, whatever, I'm not even going to apologize for turning into that person." She smiled adoringly at Zola again. "And since I am that person," Meredith added, maternal pride and excitement bleeding through her voice, "did I tell you that Zola waved goodbye at Derek today? It's the first time she's done that, she was so cute."

"I bet she was," April said, smiling, and for the rest of the night, she and Meredith talked only of Zola's developmental milestones.

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_****** Please review. ******_


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, April woke up worrying about why the chief wanted to see her. She was sure it couldn't be good, and her feeling of foreboding only increased the longer he kept her waiting. Sixteen minutes after his assistant had said to be there, the chief's office door opened abruptly. "Dr. Kepner!"

April stood up quickly from the wall she'd been leaning exhaustedly against.

"Yes, Chief Webber," she said, following him back into his office. They sat down on opposite sides of his desk. April wanted to fidget, but willed herself to be still. Chief residents were calm. Chief residents were in control. Chief residents were not tired from roommate-exodus-induced insomnia.

The chief cleared his throat. "First off, congratulations," he said, gruffly. "I was impressed to learn that Dr. Hunt had decided upon you for chief resident."

"Thank you, Chief Webber," she said politely. She knew that both of them were thinking that a lot had changed since he'd fired her.

"I called you in to discuss your fellowship status," he said.

April tensed. She hadn't applied for a fellowship yet.

"I noticed that you haven't made an early decision," the chief continued, looking concerned. "And while I applaud you taking the time to think things through, I wanted you to know that as chief resident, there's an expectation that you'll choose a subspecialty sooner rather than later."

April nodded, trying to look as serious as possible. "Yes, sir, and believe me, I've been thinking about it." She had been, a little - and truth be told, she hadn't come to any conclusions.

"Well, think about it harder," said the chief abruptly. "Chief resident is typically given first choice by the attendings for fellowship positions." He paused. "And Dr. Hunt says you show great promise as a trauma surgeon. He has expressed that he would be thrilled to have you as a fellow."

April smiled. "That's very generous of Dr. Hunt, sir," she said.

"Trauma is a strong subspecialty," the chief said approvingly. "It would look great next to to the chief resident line on your resume." He regarded her gravely over the tops of his glasses, eyebrows raised.

April hesitated. Did he want her to agree to a trauma fellowship right now? "Yes, I imagine it would," she said slowly.

The chief waited a beat, and when it became apparent that she wouldn't say anything further, he leaned back and said brusquely, "I would like to announce your fellowship application and acceptance by the end of the month, set an example for the other residents."

"Yes, sir," April said firmly. She met his gaze, trying for fearless. "I'll continue to weigh my options and have an application in soon."

"Good," said the chief, dismissive now. "Thank you, Dr. Kepner, you can go."

"Yes, sir," she said, and left his office unsure whether to feel relieved or stressed out at how the meeting had turned out.

* * *

><p>She was late for lunch again, but at least this time they weren't out of the special. She was on Dr. Hunt's service today, and the ER had kept them busy so far. Busier still was her mind, trying to imagine a career in trauma. She couldn't quite wrap her head around it, but the chief seemed to think she should...<p>

Her inner conflict was interrupted when Jackson plopped down across from her with his own tray. "Hey," she said in mild surprise.

"Hey," he replied, grinning at her.

She remembered Meredith's news last night and fixed him with a pointed look. "So I hear you're moving out."

The grin disappeared from his face, replaced by a grimace. "Sorry. I wanted to tell you myself, but I've been working nights the last few days...I guess Meredith told you everything?"

"She just said you and Lexie were getting a one-bedroom closer to the hospital," April said. "And it's fine," she added, "I was just surprised, I didn't know you guys were that serious."

"Yeah," Jackson said with a dopey smile. "I mean, I didn't know we were either, but then after Zola moved in, Lex started talking about how she was tired of feeling surrounded by babies, and maybe it was time to start looking for a place of her own, and I said we should do it together, and she said yes," he finished, his eyes starry.

April refrained from rolling her eyes at how lovestruck he was. "That's great," she said, "I'm really happy for you."

"Thanks," he said, looking at her carefully. "You know, we signed the lease before we knew about Meredith and Derek moving out."

April sighed, twirling her fork through the angel-hair pasta on her tray. "It's fine, Jackson, you don't have to do that."

"Do what?" Jackson asked. "I'm just saying, I didn't think you'd end up..." he trailed off.

"Alone? I always do," April said sardonically. She smiled, trying to reassure him. "Really, it's fine, I'm the one who's constantly telling you guys to get a room. I'm actually looking forward to the day that I can stop disinfecting furniture before I sit on it." She smirked at him.

He laughed half-heartedly. "Okay, fair enough, but still, it's weird, you know?"

April was silent, so he babbled on, "I just, you know, it's been nice living together, ever since..." He met her eyes, unable to finish the sentence.

"Yeah," she said quietly. "I know." Since Reed. Since Charles. Since Meredith had saved them both from going back to apartments with air so filled with memories of their dead friends that they'd have suffocated.

"But it'll be fine, Jackson," April said. "We'll still be friends." She held his gaze, and hoped she didn't have to say it out loud, that they would always have that in common. Not everybody loses their best friend to the same gun, on the same day, that you lose yours, but when they do, it's a connection that lasts forever.

Jackson looked down, eyebrows knit together. "Yeah," was all he said, but she knew he understood what she hadn't put words to.

"And I think I'll like living alone," she said, searching for a change of subject, wanting to show him that she didn't need pitying, wasn't standing still while everyone else moved away. "Anyway, I have bigger things to worry about, being chief resident."

Jackson cocked an eyebrow at her, more than willing to let the moment pass. "Oh yeah? All those charts keeping you busy?"

"Actually, yes," April frowned. They were more work than she'd thought. "But I was talking about picking a subspecialty."

Jackson narrowed his eyes at her. "We don't have to do that until later in the year."

April swiped a french fry from his tray, irritated anew at the surprise of this morning. "_You_ don't have to do that until later this year," she said. "The chief told me this morning that he expects me to have a fellowship acceptance by the end of the month. I'm supposed to set an example," she said, disbelieving.

Jackson snorted. "Cristina and Meredith both already have a subspecialty picked, and even if they haven't filled out the paperwork yet, they'll get accepted. Karev will almost certainly end up with Robbins in peds, so who exactly are you setting an example for, me?"

"I don't know," April said glumly.

"Well, what are you picking, then?" Jackson demanded, eyebrow raised.

"I don't know," April said again, listlessly this time. "The chief strongly hinted that I should pick trauma, because Dr. Hunt said I showed promise." She grabbed another fry off of Jackson's tray, suddenly craving empty carbs and salt.

"Huh," Jackson leaned back, looking skeptical.

"What?" April said peevishly.

"Oh," he said, shrugging. "I just kinda always saw you picking a softer subspecialty." He paused, seeming to reconsider. "But I guess trauma makes sense too, you did well in that workshop Hunt ran. Anyway, don't worry about it, you'll end up picking trauma."

"First of all," said April, "there's no such thing as a softer subspecialty. That's demeaning to surgeons who work just as hard as any neuro or cardio 'god'," she said with sarcastic air quotes. "And second, how do you know what I'll end up picking?"

"Because you have people pleasing issues and crave praise from authority figures," Jackson said simply.

April's jaw dropped open. "I - " Well, denying it outright would be a lie, she thought. "I may have _some_ problems with that," she sputtered, "but I can think for myself."

"Oh yeah?" Jackson said, popping another fry in his mouth. "Well, what other fellowship are you considering then?"

Not wanting to prove him right by admitting she hadn't thought of any others, April said the first thing that came to her mind. "Peds."

"Aha!" Jackson said, triumphant anyway. "See, I knew it, a softer specialty."

"Peds isn't softer," April said in exasperation, "it's just -"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Jackson said, waving a hand. "You know what I mean, and you know everyone else will think the same thing."

"Ugh," April said in frustration.

"And see, there you go," Jackson's eyes twinkled at her, "caring what everybody else thinks again."

April stood up and grabbed her tray. "Thanks," she said, rolling her eyes. "You have been no help at all."

"That's what I'm here for," said Jackson lazily, peeling open a pudding cup.

His attitude forced a grin onto April's face, but as she walked away it slid off. She wished they could have talked through it more seriously. It was a big decision, career-altering for sure, and potentially permanent. Once she had three years of a fellowship behind her, she would have a hard time going back and specializing in something else.

April sighed, dumping the contents of her tray into the appropriate bins, and decided to worry about big decisions later. For now, she would just focus on just getting through the rest of her day.

_**.**_

_**.**_

_****** Please review. ******_


	5. Chapter 5

It turned out not to be a bad decision. The rest of her day was exhausting, trauma after trauma after trauma. April was far from a pessimist, but by the end of her shift in the ER, she was about ready to concede the game to Fate. There was only so much even a first-rate medical team could do for someone for whom destiny had written a tragedy.

The next day was the same, and April barely made it through. After her shift, she found herself leaning against the nurses station in defeat, filling out forms with a sense of hopelessness, wondering if this is what the rest of her life would feel like.

"Dr. Kepner," said Dr. Stark stiffly, acknowledging her as he walked up, reaching for a chart. He, too, leaned against the counter in fatigue.

"Dr. Stark," she replied with similar formality. Unbidden, her mind recalled the memory of telling Jackson that she was considering peds as a specialty, and she realized Robert - Dr. Stark - would be the person to whom she'd submit an application.

Her mind scoffed at the very idea. Dr. Stark had never expressed any particular interest in having her as a pediatric fellow, and with their history... well, suffice it to say that she couldn't imagine them having a good mentor relationship. She studied him obliquely as she pretended to read, wondering if he'd even entertain the idea. Maybe, she thought dubiously. In weariness, she went back to her paperwork.

* * *

><p>She was with Hunt the next day, too - and the day after that, all at his request. She was beginning to suspect that he and the chief were in conspiracy to give her a taste of how great a trauma fellowship would be, but despite Dr. Hunt's gratuitous respect and thoughtfulness, it was having the opposite effect.<p>

It wasn't the statistically depressing outcomes that bothered her, she thought, at the end of her fourth trauma shift in a row. It was that she didn't even get a chance to know someone as a person before they were... gone. Either not a person anymore but instead a sack of biomaterial to be buried or burned, or a chart of symptoms and treatments that was shunted off into some other department for follow-up care.

She could do it, she knew. Given time, she would adjust, as she always did. What she didn't know was whether she wanted to. Jackson was right - there was a part of her that wanted this simply because her bosses wanted it for her. At times like this, she hated that part of herself. How could she be sure she was making the right decision, and not just the decision that someone else had pushed her into?

April sighed. She had no idea how to go about deciding. What should her criteria be? There was no checklist to determine how to diagnose the rest of your life. The image of Dr. Stark rose in her mind, and she didn't push it back down.

She missed talking to him. He was one of the few people from whom she'd felt no pressure. They had actually touched on her future in medicine on one of their dates - she'd laughed off his question about her career goals, saying that her main objective was just to survive residency. Unlike her other colleagues, his face hadn't immediately registered scorn for her lack of ambition. He'd smiled, nodded, and said that there was no point in rushing.

She did need the advice of someone more experienced, April reflected. Even if she didn't, there was no point in asking any other resident for advice. Jackson had already proven worthless, and she was sure Meredith and Christina would be even less helpful. She realized she'd left someone out, and for half a second, she tried to imagine asking Alex for career advice, then laughed the thought away. There were bad ideas and then there were horrible ideas, April told herself sardonically.

But maybe asking Dr. Stark's opinion wasn't a bad idea. April wondered at that for moment, but there was no way to say for sure unless she just approached him about it. There had to be a way she could catch him at a good time...she resolved to try.

* * *

><p>Two weeks later, despite having been on Dr. Stark's service twice, that perfect moment still hadn't materialized. The deadline the chief had set was looming, and April realized she would just have to bite the bullet. She was standing outside his office now, pretty sure he was inside doing post-ops from having peeked at his schedule earlier in the day.<p>

April took a deep breath, and knocked on the door.

"It's unlocked," came the muffled, disgruntled reply. Not exactly an invitation, April thought, but she turned the knob and pushed the door open anyway.

Dr. Stark looked up from his desk, his irritation at being interrupted mixing with surprise as he saw April standing in the doorway. She wasn't on his service today, he thought.

He waited for her to speak, but she just hesitated in the doorway, looking as if she regretted coming in. After a beat of silence, he said dryly, "Something I can help you with, Dr. Kepner?"

"Ahh - well, yes, I - is this a bad time?" Her brown eyes were wider than usual, and he sensed that she was searching for a reason to bail on whatever she'd come here to do. Perversely, that made him determined not to provide her with an excuse.

He put down his pen and leaned back in his chair. "No, not at all," he said in a milder tone. "Have a seat," and he gestured toward the chair in front of his desk.

April finally moved further into the room, closing the door behind her a little too carefully. He continued scrutinizing her, wondering what was up, as she took the few steps toward his desk and perched nervously on the edge of the chair.

Just as he was about to prompt her again for the reason she was here, she spoke up.

"I wanted to ask you for advice," and she folded her hands in her lap, looking prim and serious. He suppressed a smile, suddenly not wanting to spoil her determination. "About my career."

"Oh," he said, caught off gaurd. "Well, the most common career advice given out is 'be a doctor', so I think you're doing fine." He smirked at her, but the sarcasm in his voice was more playful than biting. She relaxed her posture a bit, and gave him a small smile in return.

"No, I mean - about my fellowship options. Chief Webber is concerned that, as a chief resident, I haven't applied to a specialty program yet."

"Well, then, apply to one," Stark said, swinging his hand, palm up, to the side and wondering why she felt she needed advice. "Surely there are a number of departments here that would be happy to have you."

"It's not that, it's - I don't know how to choose. It's a big decision, picking a specialty." Her eyes filled with doubt. "I don't want to make the wrong decision, or for the wrong reasons."

Stark's eyebrows furrowed. "What are the wrong reasons? Money? You'll make plenty of money in whatever specialty you choose."

"No, not money," April said, wrinkling her nose a little in distaste. He still found that incredibly endearing, he noted absent-mindedly. "That's not - I'm not worried about that. Chief Webber suggested trauma surgery. Dr. Hunt told him that I've showed great promise as a trauma surgeon, and the chief said that it would be a wise decision, but..."

"But what?" Stark asked, not understanding her hesitation. "You _would _make an excellent trauma surgeon, and it would be a fine choice." He paused, trying to find a reason for her reluctance. "Don't give any weight to what people say about cowboys and ambulance chasers, it's a very respectable career, trauma surgeons save lives." He frowned at her suddenly. "Why are you asking me about this, why not talk to Dr. Hunt? I'm not a trauma surgeon."

"I know that," April said, flustered. "I don't want - Dr. Hunt would just pressure me further to become a trauma fellow, and I don't want to be pressured. I came to you because," April swallowed, "because I wanted to know...what you...well, what made you choose pediatrics?" Her last several words came out in a rush.

Stark paused, taken by surprise, watching her face carefully for a moment. "Is that something you're considering?"

April's mouth opened and closed, and then she said, almost babbling in that way she had, "I know you've never said anything about me showing promise in pediatrics the way that Dr. Hunt has with trauma, and it does seem foolish to disregard the chief's advice -"

"April," he raised his voice a little to cut her off in exasperation. She started a little, and he realized belatedly that he'd used her first name without thinking, for the first time since she'd rejected him. He pursed his lips, unwilling to apologize for or even acknowledge his slip. Instead, he shook his head just slightly, and made an effort to even out his voice. "You didn't answer my question. Again," he enunciated pointedly, "is that something you're considering?" He stared at her face, a little uneasy about the flicker of emotion that had passed over it a moment ago.

She replied slowly, hesitantly. "I've thought about it. It's such challenging and rewarding work - well, on good days. I - I'm not like you, the bad days are harder, I wish -" she paused, reorganizing her thoughts. "Even Dr. Robbins, she's so cheerful and playful with the kids," April winced, feeling like she was insulting him for not having the same demeanor, but plowed forward, "but she's still so much better than I am at maintaining distance from the patients. And I know...I know you've said that's my biggest weakness, as a doctor, that I get too involved." She fell silent, her mental struggle plainly visible.

Stark sighed. So that was it. "I haven't always been like this," he said, saving her from the impossible task of finding the right words to say next. "Stoic and cranky," he elaborated, letting his lips twitching upward at the corners to reassure her that he wasn't offended by her earlier implication about his demeanor relative to Arizona's. "And I guarantee you," this dryly and with an eyebrow raised in contempt at the very thought, "that Dr. Robbins wasn't always so good at staying professional and detached either. It's something we all work for, something that you'll have to work for no matter what sub-specialty you choose, although, you're right, it is harder in peds. It's not just bad days, it's years and years of watching kids die, and a lot of people can't handle that."

He paused. She opened her mouth to speak, but he held up a finger, and she closed it again.

"To answer your question," he said, leveling his gaze at her, "I chose pediatrics because out of all the patients I'd had as a resident, it was the kids I remembered best. The pediatrics cases I'd had were the cases I cared the most about." She nodded slowly, and he realized he shouldn't have been surprised that she would feel the same way.

"So you think," she said timidly, "that I might be better off in trauma, where there's less risk of getting emotionally involved in my cases."

"I said no such thing," Stark replied irritably. "I think you'd be an excellent pediatric surgeon." He saw that she looked unconvinced, so he leaned forward, propping his elbows on his desk. "Emotional involvement is dangerous, but sometimes it makes you better at your job. I gave you only criticism then - and you deserved it, for not listening to your attending - but your behavior with Asha demonstrates that."

She looked confused, so he elaborated. "You went above and beyond thorough medical care to give your patient the best possible chance of responding well to treatment. You told me yourself, you recognized all the things about the case that you couldn't change, and instead of letting that overwhelm you, you did what you _could_ do for her. You need to learn when and how it's appropriate to invest that much, but..." He held her gaze steadily. "You can do this job, if you want to."

She let out a breath, and said, "So...you think I should apply for a fellowship in pediatrics instead of trauma, then?"

He sighed. "Dr. Kepner, that's your decision," he said.

"But, if you could just tell me - " she started.

"No!" he said testily. "The chief and Dr. Hunt may be comfortable telling you what you should do with your life, but I am not." He paused, hating the lost look on her face, remembering how blithe she'd once been about her lack of intention. His desire to stay as detached as possible wrestled with his unwillingness to leave her completely adrift.

Abruptly, he recalled the advice an older doctor had once given him. He sighed again, reluctantly resigning himself to saying what she needed to hear, even if it meant letting down his guard more than usual. "Look - stop it. Just _stop_ asking what you're good enough at to do. Don't apply for a fellowship because of the opinions of other doctors at this hospital," Stark said, staring at her intently as she shifted in her seat.

"I'm not generally the type," he said dryly, "to give speeches about following your heart. But in this case, that's what you should do. Ask yourself what you want to do, and go do that. _Regardless _of how good you are at it, or how much support you have from the people around you."

She opened her mouth, clearly about to protest. "_Because_," Stark said, glaring at her until she closed it again, "skill can be learned. And yes, the world needs skilled doctors, but more than that, the world needs doctors who are so animated by their work that -" he paused, searching for the right words, "- that they don't allow themselves to become complacent. Doctors who care enough about what they do to push the standard of care higher and higher." He stopped, staring at her, remembering what he'd told Dr. Hunt. "Caring can't be taught," he said again now.

He fell silent, watching her brow furrow in consideration. After a moment, she nodded slightly. A subtle change had come over her face; the hint of desperation for direction had been replaced by a calmer reflection. She looked more at ease with herself, a stunning contrast to the nervous wreck she'd been when she walked in.

He watched, transfixed, as her eyes first dropped to her lap, and then closed as she took a deep, quiet breath. He was suddenly uncomfortably aware of the way her lips became fuller when she relaxed, the way her lashes grazed her smooth cheeks when her eyes were closed. As much as he didn't want to, he couldn't help but be reminded of how open and - it pained him to admit - how _young_ her face had been when they'd been dating. He hadn't forgotten that she didn't want him looking at her like this, but the weak sunlight filtering through the window blinds made the delicate curves of her jaw and collarbone stand out more, and he let himself stare for a moment anyway, before she opened her eyes again and met his gaze.

"Thank you, Dr. Stark," she said formally, "for taking the time to talk with me. I apologize for interrupting your work, I'll let you get back to it." She stood up and turned to leave, but paused with her hand on the doorknob, looking back at him. "Thank you," she said again. "Really." She smiled, and before he could say anything else, she was gone.

Stark leaned back slowly in his chair, realizing that she hadn't told him if she'd made a decision. With a sudden unpleasant jolt, it occurred to him that if she picked trauma, he would hardly see her anymore once she started her fellowship after residency. He felt cross at the very idea, then marveled at himself for still being so affected by her.

But damn it, he was. Despite the gravity of their topic of conversation, during the last several minutes with her, he'd felt lighter than he had all day. It was bittersweet, the revelation that it was mattering less and less to him whether or not she ever saw him the way he'd once hoped she would. She probably wouldn't, and he couldn't even work himself up into anger over that anymore, all he could do was hope that she wouldn't disappear from his life completely.

He sighed, and picked up his pen again. Whatever she decided, this paperwork wouldn't disappear on its own.

* * *

><p>Two days later, sifting through his inbox, he found a pediatrics fellowship application packet, bound in a sleek blue plastic jacket. A spark of electricity hit his chest, and he flipped open the back cover, finding the last page. The bottom was signed and dated in her tidy cursive, and he smiled.<p>

_**.**_

_**.**_

****** _The advice that Stark gives to April was inspired by a quote from one of the heroes of history that I admire. A fellow preacher, Martin Luther King, Jr., is said to have carried one of his books with him almost everywhere. "Don't ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive." - Howard Thurman_.**

_**Please review. ******_


	6. Chapter 6

April arrived at the hospital just before dawn, feeling a little nervous. The deed had been done - and recorded in triplicate. She'd dropped off the application just before starting her "weekend". She had no idea how long these things usually took, but at least she had avoided spending those first two days feeling jumpy about seeing Dr. Stark again.

Despite the positive things he'd said about her the other day, there was still a paranoid part of her that worried her application would be turned down. Thankfully, today she was on Dr. Shepherd's service, and the bulk of the morning went by quickly. Neuro may not be her thing, but the cases were fascinating, and there wasn't a more agreeable attending in the whole hospital.

She and Derek were discussing the details of treatment in the hallway outside of the patient's room when Dr. Stark came around the corner, walking towards them. Dr. Shepherd finished his sentence, then asked, "Do you think vagal nerve stimulation will be enough?"

"Ahh..." April said. Her mind had gone blank.

Dr. Shepherd looked at her in concern, but then Dr. Stark stopped next to them, nodding to Derek. Derek nodded back, "Dr. Stark."

"Dr. Shepherd," Stark replied courteously. He turned to April. "Dr. Kepner. I just wanted to let you know that your acceptance letter is in my outbox, you can pick it up anytime."

"Oh," April said, perky, trying for normal. "Thank you, Dr. Stark. I really appreciate it."

Derek's eyes lit up. What was this?

"Sure, sure," Dr. Stark said, nodding. He gave April a tight and brief smile, almost a grimace really. "The department is lucky to have you," he said simply, and Derek raised his eyebrows in surprise, turning his face toward April with an incredulous look as if to ask her to spill.

But April didn't seem to notice his expression at all - blushing, she smiled and nodded to Dr. Stark, who bobbed his head one more time, then backed up a step, turned and walked away down the hall.

"Sooo," Derek drew out with a grin. "It seems congratulations are in order."

April blushed as she turned back to him. "Thank you, Dr. Shepherd."

He said speculatively, "I had no idea you were considering a peds fellowship, Dr. Hunt will be disappointed, I heard he was hoping you'd go in for trauma."

Crap. In her momentary relief, she'd forgotten that she would now have to deal with any fallout over her choice. "I did seriously consider trauma," she said slowly. "But..." She glanced down at her shoes, unsure about how to rationalize her choice.

Derek pursed his lips. "Meredith mentioned that you had dated Dr. Stark briefly? I hope that didn't weigh in your decision." His voice held no censure, only concern, but she couldn't help but feel needled.

"Not at all," she replied forcefully, looking back up, her eyes burning. He only smiled in amusement. Realizing that getting defensive would just make her look worse, she recalculated. "Well, actually, it did," she admitted, "but probably not in the way you're thinking." He raised an eyebrow, and she explained, "At first I was a little worried that we wouldn't be able to have a good mentor relationship." Then she hastened to add, "not that our working relationship has been anything professional since then, it's just - you know..."

"Sure," Derek said, taking pity on her. "It's always a little awkward to go back to a strictly professional relationship after dating, even casually."

"Exactly," April said quickly. She collected herself. "Anyway, I don't think that's an issue anymore, and so I picked peds because..." She hesitated.

"Oh, you don't have to explain that part," Derek said easily, looking back down at the chart, making a few tick marks. "It's easy to see how peds is the best of all worlds. Easy to sleep at night knowing you did your best to save kids all day, and pediatric surgeons see a bit of everything from every other specialty," he continued, dropping their patient's chart into the plastic bin affixed next to the door. "Anyway, we should get to lunch, we've got a long afternoon of surgeries."

"Yes," April said firmly. "Absolutely." They parted ways, Dr. Shepherd heading toward his office, and April heading towards the cafeteria. As soon as he was out of line of sight, though, she doubled back towards Stark's office. It wouldn't take that long, she told herself, to grab the letter. She had time...

* * *

><p>She gave herself a full 24 hours before facing up to telling the chief. At the end of her shift the next day, she walked into his office and shamelessly borrowed Derek's words about peds offering a little bit of every other specialty, plus the moral satisfaction of saving kids. It went better than she'd feared - the chief had simply nodded. And as she was walking out, he'd said, as if an afterthought, that since she had her work hours in other departments already filled out, that she should feel free to start scheduling herself in peds at will.<p>

April smiled to herself, elated at the memory, as she unlocked the front door of Meredith's house. A year ago, she'd been at the bottom of the list, still in disgrace from being fired, and now she was not only chief resident, she had permission to become a de facto fellow a bit early.

The door swung shut behind her with an slight echo. Actually, it didn't feel like Meredith's house anymore. Meredith was gone, and so was most of the furniture - it had disappeared several days ago in a moment she'd missed, as the moving truck had arrived when she'd been working. Right now, the house didn't feel like anyone's.

It had started feeling especially empty in the last couple of days. The end of the month wasn't until Thursday, but apparently Jackson and Lexie had convinced their new landlord to let them start moving boxes in a little early, and as soon as they'd had an air mattress in the new place, they'd stopped spending nights at the old one.

April wandered through the living room, dropping her bag on the floor by the stairs since there wasn't an end table there anymore. At least they had left the couch and the television, she thought. Derek wanted a big screen plasma and a gigantic leather sectional to go with, so she could watch anything she wanted - provided it was airing right then. The DVD/DVR was new, so it was gone, too.

Depressed, she walked into the kitchen, hitting the play button on the portable CD player she'd plugged in last night to mask how silent it was with everyone gone. The speakers started a drum beat, and a few seconds later she heard "there's a fire starting in my heart..." and tuned it out to open the pantry and find something to eat.

* * *

><p>A little over a half hour later, she washed the last of her dishes and wandered back into the living room, wondering what to do with the rest of her night. Living alone wasn't so much freeing as it was boring, she reflected. She sat down on the couch before realizing that she'd left the stereo on in the kitchen.<p>

She was too tired to follow a television show plot anyway, she thought, even Law and Order. She kicked off her shoes, laying down on the couch. Her afternoon of surgeries had worn her out more than she'd thought an hour ago, but she wasn't ready to go upstairs yet. Maybe the music would distract her just long enough to drift into sleepiness.

Adele was in the middle of a cover of "Lovesong". Original, April thought a little snottily. Alice had sent her this album. The baby of the family and the only one with any artistic tendencies, she usually had great taste in new music, but April wasn't feeling this one. The singer was clearly talented, but this song and every other 80s cover had been done to death since the release of 50 First Dates.

Mercifully, the track ended. April sighed in relief, and she relaxed into the couch as she took a mental inventory of her life, trying to adjust. She lived alone in a quiet house, not with five other loud and busy doctors. She wasn't the disgraced, fired resident anymore, she was chief of them all, and officially accepted as a pediatric fellow. She hadn't told anyone that last bit, she realized. Dr. Stark and Dr. Webber were the only ones who knew, and the chief would announce it next week.

The piano started back up as she thought of what Jackson might say if she could tell him right now. Probably I told you so, if he could tear himself away from his new live-in girlfriend long enough to speak.

"I heard," the speakers crooned, "that you're settled down." April smiled, charmed at the coincidence. "That you've found a girl, and you're married now." Well, that wasn't quite true, April thought - yet, who knew? The way he was fawning over Lexie...

"I heard that your dreams came true," the song continued. Probably applicable. Jackson was clearly over the moon about this new step. He'd said awhile ago that he had what he wanted, while staring at her with a look on his face that caused April a pang of jealousy despite herself. How did Lexie get guys to look at her like that so damn easily? Irritated, she transfered her attention back to the song.

"...it isn't over," Adele sang softly. The piano played mournfully, and then the singer's filled out and turned surprisingly haunting, "nevermind, I'll find someone like you. I wish nothing but the best, for you, too." It sounded familiar. Had she heard this song before? For some reason, it made her think of Dr. Stark. Had this song played in the restaurant on one of their dates? April listened more intently.

"Don't forget me, I beg. I'll remember, you said - sometimes it lasts, in love, but sometimes it hurts instead." Well, she and Dr. Stark certainly weren't the "it lasts" part of that lyric. She tuned the music out again as she thought about the most recent time they'd been alone together. It definitely hadn't hurt...

He'd called her 'April'. She'd been ignoring that, but she hadn't forgotten it, and now a small shiver went down her spine at the memory. Was she reading too much into that? It was what any of her colleagues called her when they were being informal.

"I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited, but I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it," Adele sang. She'd done that, showing up at his office, looking for advice. "Follow your heart". Not the words you'd expect from a grinch. Sometimes he seemed full of surprises. "I hoped you'd see my face and that you'd be reminded that for me, it isn't over..." That wasn't why she'd gone. She just wanted to talk to him. She'd missed hearing his perspective. He considered personal problems with the same calm experience with which he handled complications in the OR.

"Nevermind, I'll find someone like you..." Adele's voice was raw, as if she was trying to will a new relationship into being just by wailing it. Alright, April admitted to herself. This song made up for the last one. "I wish nothing but the best for you, too. Don't forget me, I beg, I'll remember, you said - sometimes it lasts, in love, but sometimes it hurts instead."

She hadn't forgotten about him, that there was a nice man under there. The several minutes in his office had been a stilted mockery of their previous rapport. Tears suddenly welled up her in eyes. Did Robert not want to be friends because he didn't remember or miss the easy conversations they'd had? How was it so easy for him to morph right back into someone who didn't give a damn? "Nothing compares," Adele interrupted, "no worries or cares, regrets and mistakes that memories make, who would have known, how bittersweet this. would. taste." April closed her eyes, feeling the water in her eyelashes. _Had _she made a mistake with Robert? Maybe it was just the song getting to her...

The chorus started again. "Nevermind, I'll find someone like you." _When_, April thought, feeling petulant. She'd told herself that as she sat and watched From Here to Eternity by herself. She'd find someone like him - someone to watch old movies with, someone who listened to her, someone who told her she was very beautiful. Someone younger, she admitted. Someone her friends wouldn't make fun of her for dating.

But she hadn't, she thought, found someone like him. She didn't have anyone to watch a movie with - she was 28 years old and alone in an empty house that didn't even have a DVD player to watch a movie _on_.

The tears finally spilled over as the last chorus wound down, and Adele repeated the last line again. "Sometimes it lasts, in love, but sometimes it hurts instead."

The CD player spun to a stop with a soft tick, and silence descended upon the house again, making April's soft gasps sound loud and harsh. Hearing herself, April ruthlessly wiped the tears away. Pathetic, she told herself. There was no point in throwing herself a pity party just because she was single. Lots of people were single. She was so successful at work right now, she couldn't ask for everything to be perfect.

She was just tired. It had been a long day. She'd been stressed over telling the chief, and with his anticlimactic acceptance, that built-up tension had to come out somewhere. Besides, this big empty house was depressing. Not quite convinced by the excuses, she pulled herself up and turned off the lights before heading upstairs. Tomorrow would be better, she thought as she fell into bed fully clothed.

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_****** I couldn't get this song out of my head after they used it in the scene where April watches the movie and looks so sad. I kept hoping the writers would send her back to Stark to tell him she'd watched the movie alone and missed him, or something, anything...but they never did. I guess it's up to us fanfic authors now.**_

_**Please review. ******_


	7. Chapter 7

She woke the next morning feeling much steadier, if not quite her usual sunny self. She was with Dr. Shepherd again, and he seemed to be feeling the same way, because he'd been acting grumpy and tired all morning. They both must have woken up on the wrong side of the bed, she decided; things she normally didn't notice were a little bothersome today.

_Ding_. Like that, she thought irritably, stepping out of the elevator. Had the bell always been that high-pitched?

"Sup, Kepner," Alex sneered at her from the nurses station. She merely frowned in his general direction before reaching for her charts. He'd been full of passive-aggressive nastiness ever since she'd gotten chief resident, but even today she didn't want to pick a fight.

"I saw you've got me scheduled in trauma all next week," Alex drawled. "Must be nice, being chief resident and just dumping any shifts you don't want on me."

April flipped a page, and said evenly, "I scheduled you in trauma because you need more hours in the ER."

"Oh yeah, that's the only reason." Alex snorted. "Arizona told me about your fellowship," he said, surprising her. "Don't think you can squeeze me out of peds like you did chief resident."

"I hadn't thought of you at all," April replied through gritted teeth, her patience with his aggression running thin. "But I'm sure Dr. Robbins will request you if she needs anything," she said dismissively. Alex narrowed his eyes.

"Is that how it works with you and Stark?" he asked with an oily smirk. "Did he give you the peds fellowship so you'd be around for more of his...requests?" He grinned lecherously at her.

April had had enough. She dropped the chart she'd been holding down on the counter, and turned to face Alex fully. "No," she said, steel in her voice. "That is not how it works. You want to know how it works? I got the peds fellowship because I applied for it, and _I was qualified_." She snarled the last words, not wanting to hear any more about sleeping her way to the top. "And if you imply again that I got it for any other reason, I will report you for sexual harassment."

She tried to go back to her charts, but Alex laughed cruelly. "You can't report me without telling the whole hospital that you're so _pathetic _that you were willing to screw Stark," he said, clearly trying to hit her where it would hurt most.

April's anger flared, the hot burn making her feel reckless. "And you think I won't? I am not ashamed of anything I've done with him," she said, furious that everyone had an opinion on who she should date. And from Alex!

"Which is more than I can say for what happened with you," she continued, her voice getting louder as he rolled his eyes, "and I would _happily _tell the entire city of Seattle that I slept with Stark if it meant getting you fired or suspended." He looked taken aback, and she lowered her voice again to finish the threat. "And I'm sure I could find someone who's overheard this conversation or any of the others to back me up."

She looked around, realizing that in fact a couple of nurses had stopped to stare at them. Before she could get disconcerted, she looked back at Alex, who was glancing away from the nurses down to the floor, and she finished strong, "so either knock it off and start treating me like chief resident, or I'll make your life a lot harder than it has to be."

She glared at him, and he growled out an apology in a low voice, "alright, sorry, forget it." He walked away, shaking his head and mumbling something about being able to take a joke. April closed her eyes and clinched her jaw, willing herself not to throw her pen at him. That would be childish. She was chief resident.

Shaking her head a little, she finally turned back to her charts.

* * *

><p>Alex didn't even smirk at her for the rest of the day. He was perfectly professional, and April changed into her street clothes feeling vindicated, if not any happier. Despite that small vicory, the day hadn't gone well. Dr. Shepherd had lost a patient in the OR that afternoon, a 14 year old boy. The sound of the flatline had sapped some of the delight she'd had for the last few days about her decision to become a peds fellow. She was still confident she'd made the right decision, but it was hard to be happy about a future full of sick kids, when a sick kid had just died in front of you.<p>

All she wanted to do was go home and zone out. Last night's resolution to look for an apartment could wait another day. Walking into the hospital lobby, she woke up a little when she saw Dr. Stark walked in the front doors. She rarely saw him in anything but scrubs and a lab coat anymore, and for a moment she was distracted by the way his dark grey dress shirt made the gray highlights in his hair stand out.

He nodded at her with a half smile, and then they passed each other, and she walked out the door he'd just come in, slowing down as the sunlight hit her. In this bright light, it seemed ridiculous that she could have gotten as maudlin as she had last night. Sure, if she could go back in time, she might do just a few things differently. But she wasn't desperate, she just needed more sleep. She would go to bed earlier tonight.

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_****** Please review. ******_


	8. Chapter 8

_**** Author's Note: So__, hopefully I'm remembering right, that the only people who know about April's virginity firsthand are Mer, Alex, Lexie, and Jackson, because they were all at the bar. And Christina knows, because of Mer. Derek may or may not, also because of Mer. We also know Bailey knows somehow, but I'm going to assume that nobody else does_. ****

Tonight just got worse by the hour, Robert thought as he flipped the chart closed. Walking in the front doors was clearly going to be the high point of this shift.

The first patient he'd seen was a three and a half month old, admitted for observation as she recovered from severe vitamin B12 deficiency. He wasn't sure how much neural damage may have been done by the time her gums started bleeding and they took her to the emergency room. Her parents were still hostile after he'd called a vegan diet unhealthy. He'd recommended switching to formula, but the mother insisted on continuing to breastfeed, so he'd had to use the threat of calling child protective services unless she submitted meal plans to a nutritionist for the next three months. That had gone over well.

His fifth patient had been a six year old that had just been diagnosed with stage 3 lung cancer, and his single mother was wracked with guilt because they'd lived in L.A. for the first four years of his life before she'd saved up enough to move back closer to her parents. Robert had assured her that that even if that had been a contributing factor, she couldn't blame herself, the odds were so slim - but he knew it hadn't made a difference. Watching her lie and say she would be okay made him wish he was back talking to the vegans.

"Dr. Stark!" someone chirped behind him. He turned to find Dr. Robbins coming to a halt in front of him, smiling. He suppressed a sigh. When had his closest colleague become someone who had permanent dimples from beaming incessantly with perfect tiny teeth? The scrub caps, even the roller skate shoes, he could get past - they were probably popular with the kids and anything that made the kids more comfortable was worth putting up with, in his book. But he wasn't sure he'd ever get used to the perky. Or the lack of personal boundaries.

"So," she said, proving his point by grinning even more maniacally and leaning in conspiratorially, prompting him to take a step backwards. "You and Dr. Kepner."

His heart skipped. There was no way Arizona could know he wasn't fighting his feelings for April much anymore. He wasn't going to _do _anything about them, and he'd been very careful the last several days to be sure that his heart never crept out onto his sleeve. He raised his eyebrows icily. He rarely felt quite as surly as he knew he typically came off, but sometimes it was useful. "Excuse me?"

"I had no idea you had, you know," Arizona lowered her voice and made odd hand movements. Robert's eyes dropped to them for a moment, confused, then looked back up at Arizona, shaking his head and squinting at her. "Slept together!" Arizona finished in a thrilled and teasing whisper.

Robert's head jerked back. "We - what?" he said sharply. "Where did you hear that?"

"Olivia was complaining earlier that it's all Jamie's been talking about today," Arizona said, as if that explained anything. "Apparently Becca and Katy overheard Dr. Kepner telling Dr. Karev that she'd slept with you, and Becca told Jamie that Karev seemed mad when he walked away from Kepner. Jamie hooked up with Karev a couple nights ago," she rolled her eyes, "and is obsessing about whether or not this means they won't go out again. Either way, the important part is, I can't believe you slept with her!" She pushed his shoulder playfully.

Barely keeping up, Robert frowned and nodded as he pieced together the relevant parts of this story, before realizing how that would look. "Wait, that's not - "

"Don't worry," Arizona said, reassuring. "I know that's not why you approved her application, and if it gets called into question, I'll back you up. She'll be a great peds surgeon."

"I - right," Stark said, feeling more bewildered by the moment. "But what I mean to say is," and then he hesitated as his brain finally caught up with their conversation. April had said they had slept together? Should he tell Arizona they hadn't? "That's not an area of my life I'd like the whole hospital to be involved in," he said finally, and a little stiffly. "I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't spread such gossip."

"Of course I wouldn't," Arizona exclaimed, trying to look offended, and succeeding only in looking impatient. "It was the nurses saying it, I just thought you should know it was being talked about." Her expression gave way to salaciousness, "I can't believe I never figured it out. No wonder you two have all that awkwardness still!"

"I - we don't - " Robert muttered, wondering what the best way to get her to stop talking about this would be.

"I mean I'd heard that you guys were dating awhile back, but I didn't really think it had gotten serious," Arizona mulled, oblivious to his discomfort. "I just thought, you know, it would have been hard to get past the -" she broke off, looking embarrassed.

"The age difference, yeah," Robert said drolly. Best to act as if it didn't matter but it stung. "Well, we didn't," he said simply.

"Oh," Arizona said, studying him. "Sorry."

"And it wasn't serious," he added, hating the look of pity in her eyes. "You know, ill-advised flings, not so uncommon around here really." His voice had just the right amount of flippancy, but his eyes flicked downward an instant too soon, betraying his cavalier words.

"Right," she said slowly, clearly not convinced. "Well, anyway, good for you." He regarded her suspiciously. Was she congratulating him on a...a conquest? "I thought for awhile there that you weren't _connecting_", she emphasized, "with the staff." She grinned at him as he shook his head and groaned.

"No," he said, "no. No inappropriate double entendres. Please, go away now," and he made shooing motions with his hands.

"Okay, fine," she laughed at him, turning away. "But I'm not forgetting this," she called over her shoulder.

_Me neither, _Robert thought.

* * *

><p>Robert tumbled into bed at almost 8 the next morning, after dragging the curtains closed to block the light and the sound of the gulls fighting over breakfast. He stared at the ceiling in his dim room, trying one last time to make sense of what Arizona had told him.<p>

Why would she lie? To make Karev jealous? That didn't sound like April - she didn't play games. He didn't think she liked Karev that much anymore, either. When he'd first started at Seattle Grace, she'd seemed to have a mild crush on him, risking standing up for him in the OR like that. But since then, they seemed to irritate each other.

He couldn't bring himself to care much about Karev, honestly. His mind circled back to the initial shock.

April had said they'd had sex. Alone, he felt warm blood spread gently into his genitals at the thought, even as he was a little ashamed of such a reaction.

He couldn't ask her about it. Could he? No. How would he explain he'd heard she'd said they'd had sex? He couldn't even remember the nurses' names in Arizona's tale. Olivia had been involved, and Becca, he knew her from a case a few weeks ago, and...Jessica? Janie? This was ridiculous. No, he couldn't ask her.

He'd known women who lied to say they'd had sex with attractive men, and women who lied to say they _hadn't _had sex with someone unattractive, but never any woman who'd lied to say they'd had sex with someone they thought was unattractive. Did she think he was attractive? He'd thought - saying she thought of him as a friend, after not meeting his eyes, he'd assumed out of pity - he thought she had been ashamed to be seen with him, to be dating him. Because he wasn't attractive. Which had stung. And made him hate her, a little.

But if she was telling people that they'd slept together - his mind swerved a bit as half-formed images flickered in his mind's eye - then... she couldn't have been ashamed. Or she wouldn't tell people that. Because it wasn't even the truth. He closed his eyes in confusion, trying to call up her face as she'd said it. _"Friends, you know? We're - we're friends." _Her eyes had been so large, but... he wasn't sure about pitying, anymore. Imploring? He felt uneasy.

Had he played this all wrong, thinking he knew what she'd been thinking, when he didn't? What would have happened if he hadn't pushed her about cancelling in the first place, if he'd said "okay, maybe some other night" instead of accusing her of using work as an excuse to avoid him? Would there have been another night? Would she have avoided him and blown him off, the way he had her? He felt even more uneasy at that. Would she still have ended up lying, saying they'd slept together when they hadn't?

April had said they'd had sex. His mind ran into that brick wall again, disrupting any reasoning he was getting done, and making inside his boxers an achy place as his mental associations with the words "April" and "sex" brought up ideas that he'd studiously avoided entertaining. He opened his eyes again, but the darkened ceiling did nothing to distract him from the thought of April here in bed with him, leaning over him as the muscles in her slim legs on either side of his contracted and lengthened as she slid her body against his.

He shook his head, feeling almost feverish. He couldn't be thinking about things like that. Rolling over onto his stomach so that his hands couldn't drift downward to touch anywhere desire had been stirred up, he forced himself to focus on the birds outside outside until the ache in his groin subsided and he dropped off to sleep.

****_ Eeek! I went there! And...I will be going further. I think this chapter still fits the T rating, but eventually it will probably be changed to M._

_Please review. _****


	9. Chapter 9

Two days later, he woke up early well before his alarm. He hadn't seen April since he'd spoken to Arizona, but he knew he would later today, because this week's schedule had her on pediatric service exclusively. As her boss, he was pleased with her commitment, but he was also a little unnerved at the idea of seeing so much of her.

So it was even more startling, as he was walking in the front doors of the hospital, to see her a bit earlier than he'd expected, standing at the end of the line at the espresso stand he'd been heading towards himself. Wanting to delay any interaction until they were in a more professional environment, he actually considered skipping coffee for now. But there was no guarantee that he'd find his way back to caffeine before lunch, which was simply unacceptable. He slowly walked over to stand behind April.

She was rocking from side to side on her hip, fidgeting as she waited, and she didn't turn around. Robert studied her from behind, not seeing a person who would lie about having sex with a colleague. He'd wondered, over the past couple of days, if Arizona and the grape vine hadn't gotten it wrong, but coming up with a coherent theory for that was even harder than trying to reconcile April's normal appearance with the idea that the grape vine hadn't gotten it wrong. He couldn't do either. In fact, it seemed the only thing he _could _do was to stare at her ass, and try not to think about the fantasies he'd been so close to letting himself have.

* * *

><p>April reached up to tuck a stay hair back into her bun. She felt self-conscious, as if someone were scrutinizing her, but that was ridiculous, the barista was still helping the guy in front of her. She was just feeling a lack of composure from oversleeping and getting ready in a rush. She hadn't even had the time to make herself coffee or breakfast. She'd been exhausted from the night before, trekking around town trying to find her next apartment. She'd seen four, none of which had felt right, leaving her feeling a bit discouraged.<p>

She'd decided that since she didn't have roommates with cars anymore to catch rides with, it made sense to move closer to the hospital. She was tired of spending an hour and a half of her day on the bus. So she'd looked at apartments a bit north and east of Seattle Grace, but though the places themselves had been fine, the buildings had all been filled with the type of twenty-somethings that ran wild on Capitol Hill. April didn't mind their aesthetic - it wasn't her thing, but the crazy colored hair, piercings, and oddly assorted fitted clothing was kind of fun to look at - but they did make her feel square and uncool, and she was tired of feeling out of place.

She wanted somewhere that actually felt like home to her. Somewhere that she could feel like the grownup that she wanted to be. Living with the other residents had been great, for awhile, but now that it was over, April was realizing that she'd never really been truly happy in the frat house atmosphere that had followed her friends around. She'd been letting herself dream, the past few days, about tending a little herb garden in a box on the kitchen windowsill, and art hanging on the walls that wasn't put up by someone else's mom.

Just as she was starting to daydream about what prints she might find in thrift stores, the guy in front of her finally stepped aside, and the barista smiled mechanically at her. "What can I start for you?" he asked.

"Doppio, room for cream," April replied, and watched as her drink was made. She would never be able to afford an espresso machine for her new place, but she was definitely not settling for one of those horrible automatic drip coffee machines, either, she thought, thinking grimly of both the newer machine that Meredith had taken with her, and the ancient one she'd left behind. A french press, she decided, and her own little grinder. It would be a nice ritual every morning, listening to the whir of the motor and watching through the glass as the beans released their flavorful oils.

"There you go," said the barista, interrupting her reverie again by setting her drink down on the counter. "That's $3.96." April handed him a five dollar bill, smiled and thanked him, dropped a bit of half and half into her cup, and walked away with a renewed resolve to find the perfect apartment.

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><p>Robert suppressed a sigh of relief. She'd never even noticed him. "Cappucino, tall, extra dry," he said brusquely, and the barista turned away once again, leaving him to struggle with the same dichotomy he'd been faced with for days.<p>

_"Friends, you know? We're - we're friends."_ It certainly didn't line up with_ " ...overheard Dr. Kepner telling Dr. Karev that she'd slept with you." _What _did _April want from him?

It was going to be a long week.

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_****** Please review. ******_


	10. Chapter 10

Stark may have been having a hell of a time, but for April, the week flew by.

Pediatric surgery had definitely been the right choice. April knew it not just when she was with the patients and their parents, where it was the only choice that made any sense at all, but in the operating room as well. For the first time since she'd gotten fired for the simple mistake of missing smoke inhalation, she felt like she was actually good at her job.

She'd noticed that the smaller the patient, the more other surgeons struggled. But she didn't. She was a small person herself, she supposed, with smaller fingers, but somehow it felt like more than that, maybe even something someone might call a talent. She wasn't sure if she'd had a talent before this. Aside from studying. And annoying people. But as if to confirm it, Dr. Robbins, seeing her assist on a repair of an inguinal hernia in a 2 week old, remarked on her uncanny precision and ease in so small a space.

Even Dr. Stark seemed quietly pleased that she was so adept. Despite what she'd told Dr. Shepherd, she'd been nervous about their working relationship being strained, but everything had been fine. Better than fine - she was learning a lot.

Dr. Stark had just recently acquired two incredibly interesting patients, a six year old with stage 3A lung cancer, and an 11 year old with both cystic fibrosis and systemic lupus. Both cases were rare - kids hardly ever got lung cancer, and CF and lupus were rare enough in the general population on their own, doctors rarely saw both in one patient.

She'd been doing a ton of research on the side, actually. And she'd even been managing to impress Dr. Stark with her knowledge during their discussions about and visits to the patients. That had been the icing on the cake, the taking names corollary to her kicking ass in the OR with Dr. Robbins the other day.

Until Sherri, who was the single mother to Ben, the six year old with lung cancer, called her by her first name. Stark merely raised an eyebrow while they were in the patient's room, but April knew it wasn't over. And sure enough, as soon as they walked out in the hallway, he beckoned for her to follow him into an out of the way corner.

"_April?_" he repeated, as he finally turned to face her. "Did you decide that she needed a friend, _Dr. Kepner_?"

"I - no," she flushed, having known that allowing that familiarity would burn her eventually.

"Well, what then? That crosses a professional boundary, a boundary that is there for a reason." He leveled a stern gaze at her.

"I know," April stammered, "I'm sorry, but she saw my full name on the chart, and asked if she could call me April, and, and, what was I supposed to say?" He was silent, looking frustrated.

"How about," he finally ground out, "_No, thank you, I prefer Dr. Kepner."_

April felt her face grow even hotter. "I - she said - she was having a hard time understanding the treatment options for the diagnosis," she said in a rush, "and so I spent an extra few minutes talking with her, explaining, and I think she was just looking for someone to lean on."

Stark looked unimpressed, and she ventured further, "she said that it made her feel better to know that a doctor on Ben's case was named after a month in spring." Now he looked completely nonplussed, and she mumbled, looking down at the square tiles, "because spring is a time of blossoming...and...renewal..."

He scowled. "April in Seattle is chilly, rainy, and overcast, just like the other eight months of winter. If only your name was June." She tried not to flinch at his sarcasm.

"Look, just don't get too involved in this case," Stark said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Stage 3A lung cancer is the most controversial to treat even in adults, and I don't need my resident getting emotionally -"

"I know," April said, firmly, determined to get back on his good side. "Because within the 3A non-small cell diagnosis, patient demographics and outcomes are so varied that it's hard to know what treatment an individual patient will respond best to."

His face didn't relax, really, but it changed from irritation to grudging respect. "Yes, exactly. That, and -"

"And though outcomes vary greatly," April interrupted again, "the 5 year survival rate is still only 23%, and the median life expectancy is 15 months.

Stark sighed. He typically didn't quote cold statistics to parents unless they asked outright. Sherri hadn't, and reading the numbers in the medical literature was different than hearing them said out loud. "15 months, then 23%, yes." _God, this case sucks, _he couldn't help thinking. _That kid is six. He should have a better than 23% chance of making it to eleven._

"Right," April said, sounding more confident. "Those two facts combined mean that you're more likely to get sued on this case than most others." Stark stared, mouth slightly open at her blunt deilvery, but she didn't seem to notice.

"In fact," April said, her eyes going even wider in appeal, "did you know that because of the terrible survival rate, the National Cancer Institute states that everyone with the diagnosis should be considered a candidate for clinical trials?"

"I did," Stark said wearily. "But Ben is much younger than the patients that most clinical trials are looking for." What he didn't say, but he could see she understood, is that the only money in lung cancer treatment research was for disease likely to be caused by cigarette smoking, which is where the bulk of the cases (and therefore insurance money, and national health grants from the government courtesy of the Big Tobacco lobby) came from.

"I know," said April calmly. "But I think I found one he might be qualified for."

Stark studied her closely, wondering if that was her actual judgement or just wishful thinking. "And you haven't told 'Sherri'?" he asked, an edge to his voice.

April felt her face flush again despite herself, but she held firm. "No, of course not," she huffed. "First, it would be cruel to get her hopes up if Ben doesn't end up qualifying, and second, I know the protocol, you're the attending on this case and I can only inform you of my findings, it's at your discretion what to do with them."

Stark held her gaze for a few seconds, and she tried not to squirm. "Right reasons, Dr. Kepner. But wrong order." _Damn it, _she thought, she'd almost recovered. With a last warning look, he walked off down the hall, and April's heart sank as she realized he hadn't seemed to care about the study.

But halfway down the hall, he looked back over his shoulder and said, "have a summary and references on my desk in 72 hours, and I'll review it."

"Yes," she said, a little too forcefully in her desire to project confidence. "I will," she said, then paused to get ahold on her voice before realizing he was already out of earshot. She cringed a bit, rueful at how bumbling she'd just acted. But Ben might have a shot at the study, so despite feeling like an idiot, she couldn't help that the cringe turned into a small smile.

* * *

><p>Back in his office several minutes later, Robert tried to go over the pre-op charts for tomorrow's surgeries. Not able to concentrate, he finally rested his head in his hands, cradling his forehead with his palms. This was getting ridiculous.<p>

It had been four days, and he still couldn't figure out what to do with her. Oh, as a teacher, he knew exactly what she needed. She was the same student she'd always been, smart and willing, but a little too blind to her own tendency to get too invested. Experience would eventually temper her naiveté naturally, but until then, it was his job to remind her of her priorities.

He still remembered when he'd learned just how disastrous it could be to get too close. No one had warned him the way he was warning April now. In the months afterward, he'd wished his attending, someone, anyone, had reprimanded him before it had gone that far.

He wished he had some mentor-figure to give him advice now, too. Being the boss was good, it was definitely better than being under someone else's thumb. But once in awhile he got tired of making all the calls, and just wanted someone else to tell him what to do.

There was a knock at his door.

"Come in," he called, half hoping it was April even though he knew she wouldn't need to see him for hours.

The knob clicked and Arizona walked in, her hair still in perfectly perky curls, but her face serious and drawn. Stark sighed, and relaxed a little. At least she wasn't beaming.

"Hey," he said, "what's up?"

"I heard you admitted Jamie Sullivan," Arizona said without preamble. "She was my patient three years ago."

Stark straightened a bit in his chair. It had been awhile since Arizona had had a problem with the way he managed, and he hadn't minded the lack of issue over his authority. He regarded her suspiciously over his glasses. "Yeah, the kid with both CF and lupus. I know. Her parents didn't ask after you, though, and the computer history said it was just an ER visit and 48 hour observation."

Arizona sat back a bit. "Oh, it's fine, I don't want the case. I just, you know, it's always nice to know how your kids are doing, even if they weren't your kid for long."

"Why not just read the chart, then, to satisfy your curiosity?" Stark asked, skeptical.

Arizona rolled her eyes and gave a tired sigh. "Because, it's been a long day and I don't want to stand in front of the nurses' station any more than I have to. That, and, I figured I would just ask my _friend_. We're friends, you know?"

A thought niggled at the back of his mind. "I do now," was all he said dryly, smirking a bit to show her he was only teasing. He gave in. "She's stable for now, but her chest pains have gotten a lot worse in the last couple of months, and her parents say she started coughing up blood only this weekend. It could just be a bad few days, but it's a fair amount of blood, so I'm concerned. I'm still waiting on full lab results and blood work."

Arizona nodded, and her face relaxed a bit. She hesitated, then said, "Well, will you keep me posted on her? I don't know what it was about her case, but having her as a patient really affected me in a good way. She made my job seem easier for awhile."

Stark nodded, knowing what she was talking about. Some kids were like that.

"It's good just knowing that you're on her case," Arizona said thoughtfully. Stark raised an eyebrow, wondering when she had decided he was someone she didn't have to worry about, but Arizona didn't notice, sighing as she stood up. "Okay," she said. "I should get back to Callie and the baby, good night."

"'Night," Stark replied mildly, and watched her walk out, wondering why he felt a little bit of deja vu. He shrugged, and went back to his reading and paperwork.

An hour later, as he was checking some paperwork done by April before he signed off on it, he finally grasped that little wiggling thought. Arizona had said, "_We're friends, you know?"_

Not unlike April had said, "_Friends, you know, we're friends._"

Suddenly, he knew. That was his answer. He should just take April at her word, and be her friend. Really, he should have come to this conclusion long before now. He'd been kind of an idiot, pushing her away like that, and even more of an idiot, obsessing about his next move.

He'd figured being her friend would be too annoying, but he'd assumed that about Arizona as well (albeit for different reasons) and now he had to admit that he was honestly happy to have Arizona as a confidant, a sounding board. Just someone to talk to that wasn't a patient, a nurse, or a student. It made his days just a little more enjoyable, and it certainly made the department run more smoothly.

_Friends_, Robert thought. It sounded good, but how should he go about making that happen?

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_****** Please review. ******_


	11. Chapter 11

The next day at work, after staying up half the night to finish it after signing a lease on her new apartment, April put the trial summary in Stark's inbox, and waited for some acknowledgement from him that he'd seen it.

It never came. The most noteworthy event of the morning was that he had made no sarcastic mention of her being unable to control her yawns during rounds.

The afternoon was a little busier, with one scheduled routine surgery followed by a second. She and Stark had gotten out not too long ago, and were wrapping up the day by reviewing Jamie Sullivan's labs and scans, the last of which had finally come in, when both of their pagers went off at the same time. "It's Ben," she said, already starting to run. "911."

They got to his room just as Sherri was being pushed out of it, sobbing, by a nurse. Inside, Ben was in respiratory arrest. Even through her own stress, April couldn't help but admire the way Dr. Stark remained perfectly calm. His actions were deliberate, considered, and fast. He worked quickly without crowding her out, and thanks to his skillful ministrations, Ben's breathing stabilized quickly. But it was April who spotted the anomaly in the numbers on the machines surrounding the small boy.

"It's not type 1, there's no ventilation/perfusion mismatch," she said, stepping around the bed to put her stethoscope on Ben's chest. She listened, as Stark turned his head to look at the pulse-ox monitor.

"Hypoxia _and _hypercarbia," he murmured, confirming her opinion. "What do you hear?"

"Labored breathing effort," April said, frowning. "But it - it sounds like his breaths just aren't big enough."

"The tumors are getting too large for him to compensate for," Stark said, picking up the chart and skimming it. "We're going to have to take him into surgery to clear at least some of the mass."

"Now?" April asked, taken aback. "The last I saw, he wasn't scheduled for it for another two weeks."

"Unless you want him going into respiratory arrest every few hours until then, yes, now," Dr. Stark said, although without the usual bite she'd come to expect. "I'd hoped to shrink the tumors before going in, so that we'd have a better chance of leaving more intact lung tissue, but it's clear he has less time than we thought." April nodded, looking grim. "Go explain, get the consent from his mother, and meet me in the OR."

April hurried away, and Stark bit his lip, pausing to look down at Ben for a moment. He put a large hand on Ben's small arm briefly, knowing there was nothing to be said, and that the child wouldn't hear him anyway. Then he followed April out of the room, stopping to alert the nurses station that the patient needed to be prepped for surgery immediately, then continued down the hall, taking a mental inventory of his own needs.

He could use some caffeine before scrubbing in, and he was willing to bet April could, too. They'd both been at the hospital for a full shift already, and this surgery could potentially take several hours. He decided to make a detour to the espresso stand in the lobby.

Several minutes later, April walked briskly into the scrub room of OR 3, pulling her hair back into a ponytail and settling her scrub cap over her head. She was about to start running the water when the door opened behind her, and Dr. Stark's deep voice said, "wait."

She turned around, about to ask if he didn't want her scrubbing in after all, but the words died on her lips as she saw that he was holding out a small coffee cup. She raised an eyebrow. What was this?

"Here," he said, seeing her hesitation and holding the cup further out toward her. "Friendly gesture. I drank mine on the way, this could be a long surgery."

She took the cup from him slowly, still feeling thrown off-balance. His word choice didn't slip past her. Were they friendly now? "Uhh, thanks." She took a sip as he turned to the wash basin, and tasted extra-rich espresso and a hint of sweet cream. "Is this a doppio?" she asked in surprise.

"Yeah," Robert said, feeling a twinge of unease. "I figured you could use the extra shot, you were yawning earlier today. Is it too strong for you?"

"No," April said quickly. "No, actually...it's my favorite." He could practically hear the wheels turning in her head, wondering, but he kept his head down and continued scrubbing, hoping he hadn't overdone it.

"Huh," he said mildly. "Lucky guess." Drying his hands, he finally met her eyes, giving a mild smile as he backed out the opposite door into the OR. "See you in there." The door swung shut behind him, and April took another long sip of her cup, wondering how she should feel about this.

Watching her obliquely through the glass, pretending to busy himself with prep work, Stark saw her draw the cup away from her lips and consider it, skepticism clearly written on her face. Then her eyebrows lifted, along with the bow of her mouth, as the corners of her lips were tucked downward toward her chin, and she took a last long drink, tilting the cup and her neck.

He'd seen that expression once before - right after he asked her out, the first time, and he was pretty sure it meant, _why not? _Looking down at the instrument table for real now, he allowed himself a small smile. _Take two. _It wasn't much, but it was a good start. Lucky guess, indeed.

_**.**_

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_****** Please review. ******_


	12. Chapter 12

_****** Author's Note: There is a flashback in this chapter, so just be sure to notice the timeline information. I don't usually do flashbacks, but here it was seemed better than doing it in a strict chronological order. ******_

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_**.**_

The surgery was as successful as could be hoped for, but it took six hours, and by the time Dr. Stark let her close, April was exhausted. Nothing like a shift running several hours long to make you extra grateful that you had the next two days off, she reflected as she woke up the next morning.

Not that today would really be all that restful. She was moving into her new apartment today. She still couldn't believe it was happening this fast - she'd only signed the lease two days ago, and that after less than ten minutes after laying eyes on it. The leasing agent had said over the phone that the little one bedroom had been ready for several weeks, but no one had been interested in it, so if she wanted it, it was hers, and she could move in immediately.

She hadn't wanted it at all, at first.

_**.**_

_****** Two Days Before ******_

She'd finally settled on a neighborhood, the sloping blocks just east of downtown below, and just west of the hospital, up on the crest of the hill. There were cute Victorian walk-ups scattered throughout, two and three story houses converted with extra exterior doors installed to convert them into small separate-entry apartments. They were adorable, she thought as he walked past another, and April was already dreamily imagining finding the perfect one for herself, complete with pristine white trim and a tidy row of stepping stones leading the way through the garden.

But the building she arrived at was nothing like what she had pictured. It was far too large to be called adorable, even it had been attractive, and it wasn't. In fact, from the sidewalk, this building looked like a nightmare. So much so that she had to triple check the address to convince herself that she was in the right place.

The yard was overgrown, ivy growing so thick on the board fence that soon it would disguise the fact that the white paint had almost all peeled off, and the small symmetrical patches of grass in the front yard were slowly being swallowed by two equally tangled rows of rhododendrons that had been allowed to grow to monstrous proportions.

The once-handsome brick exterior, clearly designed to be the facade of a small hotel or boarding house, should have given the building a stately air. Instead, it looked like a purebred cat that had gotten into a few too many alley fights. It was clear that repairs had been made over the years, but not professionally - odd angles stuck out everywhere, many of the bricks jutted out instead of laying flush with the wall, and the window shutters were just a bit crooked. To complete the image of an old manor gone to seed, the gutters and drainpipe were so rusted they looked like thick brown lace.

Horrified, her mouth forming a perfect O, April stood frozen to the sidewalk. She thought of turning around right there, but she hadn't been raised to stand anyone up, even if it was just an appointment to show an apartment. So she walked gingerly up the tilting concrete steps, across the cracked pathway to the front door, and just a few minutes later, the leasing agent had appeared to show her inside.

And actually, the interior was much better taken care of - almost charming, really, she'd thought grudgingly as the agent had lead her over the wooden floors of the second floor hallway, nodding along and smiling with fake interest as the woman bubbled on about original fixtures and how the second floor had been intended as a set of suites for upper-class visitors in the late 1800s.

And then she unlocked the apartment, allowing April to step inside. Immediately, her opinion of the place turned upside down.

The living room was huge. It felt even bigger because the far end of it didn't have a wall, just one large window and a set of French doors leading out onto a long, narrow balcony that overlooked the back garden. There was no glaring overhead light, but rounded bronze sconces lining the walls - walls that were _not_painted a soulless rental white, like every other apartment April had seen, reminding her unpleasantly of the sterility of the hospital. Instead, the walls were painted a soft, warm brown, bringing out the highlights of the dark wood floor.

April half-heartedly followed the woman to the left, taking cursory glances at the small bedroom and even tinier closet. She didn't want to be impolite, but as they walked back out into the main room and the leasing agent started enumerating the age of each appliance in the efficiency kitchen, she was unable to stop herself any longer.

Wandering away from the kitchen, she pushed open one of the french doors, ignoring the creak, and stepped out onto the balcony. The leasing agent fell silent, having enough skill to know when to stop talking and let a place sell itself, and just watched as April stood silently on the pebbled concrete, taking it all in.

Even though the backyard was as neglected as the front, from up on the second floor the disorder looked appealing. Endearingly rough, instead of just unkempt. There was more ivy that had been let to wander all over, and thick tendrils of it wove in and around both the iron railing in front of the balcony, and the iron trellises that separated her balcony from those of her neighbors.

_The Secret Garden _had been one of April's favorites as a girl, and this view looked like a scene straight out of a more grown-up version of the book, where nature had broken out of it's careful upbringing in order to run free, wanton and wild, uncaring about any censure. It made her heart ache in her chest a little. Just gazing it at made her feel a little of the same, a tingle of nerve and the centered calmness of poise.

It was rare that April did anything without carefully thinking it through, rare that she made big changes in her life without the situation being close to ideal. The bedroom was tiny and dark, the kitchen range looked ancient, and from the front, the building looked well on its way to being haunted.

This place was not perfect, and April was not impulsive. Still, she turned around, and said simply, "I'll take it."

_**.**_

_****** Back to the Present Day ******_

Several hours later, April sat dragged a dusty hand across her damp forehead, and with a sigh, sank down to sit on the floor of her new apartment, surrounded by empty boxes and clutter.

In the daylight, the living room didn't have the cozy magic that it had had at dusk, and she'd felt a little uneasy all day. At least the mess of her belongings had given her a distraction for awhile, but now almost everything was put away, and though she still had a half hour's worth of clean up left, she wasn't sure what she'd do with herself after that.

Gazing around the room, she realized that part of the reason it felt a little aloof is that, despite all her earnest daydreaming, it held nothing very personal. She'd stuck to practicalities in the last few days, making sure the big items she would need, like a bed, could be delivered today while she was here. She didn't regret it - she would sleep well tonight in the queen bed she'd splurged on, and even though she hadn't yet pushed the big sectional couch together - or even taken the plastic off, as she didn't want it to get covered in cardboard shavings - it was nice to know that she would be able to curl up on it with a cup of tea later.

But right now it was kind of depressing to be surrounded by walls that were empty except for being dotted by the now unlit - and dusty, April noted, her nose wrinkling as she made a mental note to take a broom to them later - sconces. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten anything in hours, and that there was nothing in the fridge.

She sighed, and staggered to her feet. Another half hour of cleanup, and she could take a shower, and wander out on the town to find art, groceries - and maybe some wine, to sip while she sat on the couch, instead of that cup of tea.

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_****** Please review. ******_


	13. Chapter 13

_****** A few days later ******_

Stark squinted at the paperwork, trying to concentrate despite his headache, but it was futile. He'd read April's summary twice now, and he felt like he understood the study, but he wasn't sure if he should sign off on Ben applying for it. Despite April's optimism, he just wasn't sure that it was his patient's best shot. Maybe conventional treatment would be less risky.

A knock sounded on his door, and he scowled at the interruption. Still, he grumbled, "come in," and the door opened to reveal Dr. Robbins again, this time looking worn out, her hair limp around her face.

"Sorry," she said quickly, tiredly. "I really don't have a reason to bother you this time. It's just - all of the on-call rooms seem to be taken, and I didn't sleep well last night, Sofia was up crying, so I have a killer headache, and the nurses are bickering, and I just - I just need _one _minute of silence, you know?"

Stark's annoyance lessened considerably. "It's fine, I get it, have a seat." Arizona did, moving to drop heavily into one of the chairs facing his desk. "This office is a good place to hide out, actually, kind of off the beaten track."

"I know," she enunciated wryly. "It used to be mine."

Oh. Right.

"Sorry," he sighed. "I'm distracted...headache here, too. Anyway, feel free to hang out." She nodded, weary, and let her head drop down to rest against the back of the chair.

They fell into a comfortable silence. Stark had been a little afraid Arizona would be a distraction, but she was so quiet, with her head back and eyes closed, that for all he knew, she'd fallen asleep.

Grateful, he pulled up the full research proposal on his computer, and read it with Ben's file open over his keyboard. His office seemed to disappear as he became absorbed in reading the details of the trial's methodology. Forty minutes passed, and he still didn't have an answer. Frustrated and frowning, he clicked the end of his ballpoint pen against the edge of his desk several times in quick succession without thinking about it.

"So why do you have a headache, anyway?" Arizona asked, startling him. He glanced quickly over, but she hadn't stirred, her eyes still closed and her head against the back of the chair.

For a second, he wondered if he'd just imagined her words. Then her lips moved again. "It's not like you have a teething four month old at your place."

"Someone moved into the apartment next to mine a couple of days ago," he said, mildly envious of the way she looked like she was dissolving into the lumpy stuffing of what he knew to be a rather uncomfortable office chair. "I've been working nights, and they've been thumping and banging on the walls during the day when I'm trying to sleep. And this morning, I woke up at 5am to a racket that sounded like marbles being put down a garbage disposal."

Arizona still didn't lift her head, but allowed a little incredulity into her voice. "And you can't go over and explain that you're a doctor who works odd hours and could they keep it down for the next six hours? I'm sure they'd understand."

Robert scowled. "I prefer not to be on speaking terms with my neighbors."

Arizona let out a bubbling laugh, and finally opened her eyes and sat up, looking a little less tired as her eyes danced. "Are you serious? I know you've got a reputation for being kind of a misanthrope, but really, you can't talk to your neighbors?"

Stark sighed, feeling needled. "I don't like having to say hello in the hallway, or worse, make conversation in the elevator. It's a farce, pretending you care about each other when really you just want emotional leverage for your next neighborly request."

Arizona laughed again. "Wow. Oh-kay. No wonder you don't fit in around here. You know, we've got kind of a thing for elevators." Stark rolled his eyes, not knowing and not caring what she meant by that. "Is that why you were banging your pen against the desk, your rage at the social convention of smiling at someone in the hallway?"

Robert blinked at that, and looked down at the pen in his hand, realizing he'd probably woken her up. "No," he said slowly. "It's about a case."

Arizona stretched absent-mindedly. "Which case?" she asked.

"Six year old with lung cancer," Stark said shortly. "I'm evaluating him for a clinical trial being run out of John Hopkins."

"The 3A kid?" Arizona asked, taking new interest. "What kind of trial is it? Having trouble deciding if he qualifies?"

"It's an especially aggressive combination of radiation and a new brand of chemo, and no," Robert said, "he qualifies, I'd have no problem recommending him to the trial board. I'm just not sure recommending the trial to his mother is his best shot."

"Ahh," she said, nodding in understanding. Her voice lost the teasing edge he'd gotten used to from Arizona, his friend, and suddenly became very Dr. Robbins, his colleague. "Well, if you want a second opinion, I could take a look at it."

Stark glanced up sharply, wondering if she was serious or just being polite. He'd been feeling the weight of responsibility lately, and this case wasn't making it any easier. The patient's chances could be improved with this experimental treatment protocol, or they could be reduced. Add an over-invested resident into the mix, and he couldn't tell if the decision he was leaning toward was because it was best for the patient, or because April thought so strongly that it was best for the patient.

Arizona looked serious, though, so he decided to take advantage of her offer. "I'd appreciate that, actually. Do you want to take my copy of the file home with you tonight to review?" he asked, flipping it closed and holding it out to her.

Her voice turned irreverent and flip once again. "God, no. Weren't you listening? Sofia's teething, and Callie's all wound up about the baby crying all the time, I'd never be able to concentrate. Besides, if I do you this favor, you have to do one for me."

Ah, there was the catch. Robert raised an eyebrow, wary. "What's the favor?"

Arizona grinned, suddenly impish. "Take me home and feed me dinner at your place. I've been needing a quiet night away from home for awhile now, but if I go to a friend's place to relax, then I'm trouble with Callie for not being a martyr mother like she is." She infused her voice with virtue. "But if I have dinner with cranky Dr. Stark about a case, then I'm subjecting myself to torture in order to save children. That makes me, like, a hero, and not in nearly as much trouble."

He tapped his pen against the desk again, this time without the frustration. Lips curling in amusement, he repeated, "Torture?"

"I mean, that's what she would think," Arizona amended in a nod to the fact that he wasn't the urchin everyone thought, but he still looked completely unconvinced, so she doubled-down. Earnestness slid over her face in apparent sincerity, but she couldn't quite hide the slyness and mirth in her eyes. "You wouldn't even have to talk to me, just feed me."

Despite himself, Robert smiled at her theater. "Fine. I'll finish up here, and we can head to my place in an hour."

Perfect," said Arizona, bounding up and out of his office, clearly not as affected as she'd been acting a minute ago. "See you then."

* * *

><p>"This is an interesting building," Arizona said, her signature perk sounding somewhat forced, as they walked up to it. "What character."<p>

He turned his head, raising an eyebrow at her as he found his key and unlocked the outer door, finding the sweet spot of the lock with practiced ease. "You can say it. It's a mess."

"Well - " Arizona hedged.

"It's close to the hospital," he said defensively.

"Uh-huh," she said dubiously, no longer concealing the doubt in her eyes as she took another glance around. But then she followed him inside, up the stairs, and down the hall, and had to admit she'd been a little too judgmental. "It is, actually," she said by way of apology, stopping behind him at another door. "The convenience must be wonderful. And the interior is gorgeous."

He squinted at her, suspicious of such flattering adjectives, but she seemed sincere, so he just shrugged, and motioned her through his apartment door and towards the couch.

They got an hour into their reading and discussion before deciding it was time for a break.

"I'll make dinner now. Hope you like lamb curry," Robert said, rising from the leather easy chair.

"Sure," Arizona chirped, "can I help?"

"No, no, not necessary," he said, already heading towards the kitchen. His words held an air of dismissal, as if he trusted her in the OR but didn't want to risk her involvement in the kitchen. Arizona shrugged, unoffended. It was fine by her if he wanted to do all the work.

"Okay. I'm just going to grab some fresh air, then."

Stark nodded, barely listening, already preoccupied pulling meat and vegetables out of the fridge. "Push the door hard, it sticks."

* * *

><p>April jumped at a sound that was halfway between a bang and a thud. She heard someone say, "Jesus," under their breath, and then there was a scraping sound and another soft thud, followed by silence. April felt suddenly tense. She'd spent the last few days off in a whirl of the work it took to turn an apartment into a home, and was finally relaxing with that glass of wine she'd thought longingly about on the first night, but now she realized she hadn't even given a thought to her neighbors yet, much less met them. What if the tenant next door smoked cigarettes and cursed all night from his balcony? Suddenly, her own patch of concrete felt a lot less private and perfect, and she gazed out into the cozy tangle of the backyard, trying to ignore her unease and get back to appreciating the mild breeze and the hint of stars beyond the city lights.<p>

* * *

><p>Arizona sighed in appreciation of the same sight. "What a nice night," she said to herself, leaning against the railing.<p>

To Arizona's surprise, she heard a relieved laugh, and was startled as someone said, "I was just thinking the same thing, you must be my new neighbor." Arizona turned her head to the right, following the source of the sound, and realized that behind the ivy- and moss-covered iron trellis was another apartment's balcony. She heard footsteps as the person walked closer to see around the ivy, and Arizona exclaimed in surprised recognition, "Dr. Kepner!"

"Oh," April said, coming to an abrupt stop as she briefly stumbled in shock. Recovering from feeling at sea, she floundered to react more quickly. "Oh! Oh my gosh, Dr. Robbins!" Her confusion at unexpectedly seeing Arizona outside the hospital had her leaning forward, resting the arm that was holding her wine glass on the railing between them. "I had no idea you and Callie lived in this neighborhood."

Arizona's own look of surprise was fading, and at first she grinned as if she had some secret, but she made an effort to smile normally as she said, "We don't, actually, the three of us and Mark live down in Belltown."

"Oh," April said, feeling even more confused. If Arizona didn't live in the building, what was she doing out on the balcony all alone?

"I'm here because," Arizona paused, trying to contain her glee about this interesting development, and find the best way to explain, "because I wanted to go over a case file and some research papers without getting distracted, and Mark has the baby at home, so we decided to come here, to -"

Just then, they heard the sound of the French door being wrenched open again, and a man's voice said, "The curry will be another few minutes, but can I offer you a glass of wine while we wait?"

April's breath stopped for a moment. Was that? No. It sounded familiar, but it couldn't be...although...Arizona _had _said something about a case file. _Ohgod, ohgod, _she thought, _please tell me that's anyone other than -_

"Dr. Stark!" The blond said cheerfully, clearly enjoying herself immensely even as April's pulse turned erratic with nerves and bewilderment. "I've met your new neighbor, you should come say hi!"

"Oh," Robert said, feeling a little grumpy. Hadn't he just told her that he preferred not to know anyone in his building? He hesitated, and then figured the quickest way out was to appease Arizona by going through the bare minimum of pleasantries, so he started towards the balcony edge, already forming his excuse for keeping this short. "Well, I actually need to keep an eye on the..." His words trailed off as he saw who was standing there.

There was a moment of silence as Robert struggled to make sense of the whole scene. A cool, humid breeze rushed past the skin on his face and hands and ruffled his hair, making the moment feel real for his body, but his mind still couldn't quite accept that April could be standing there, on the balcony next to his, dressed in street clothes, with a glass of red wine in her hand, looking almost as shell-shocked as he felt. A car blared its horn on the opposite side of the block, bringing him halfway out of his reverie, and on auto-pilot, he finally said, "Dr. Kepner. Welcome to the building."

"I - thank you," April replied, seemingly just as adrift as he was at this unexpected turn of events. Unable to look him in the eye any longer, she turned to Arizona, her mouth slightly open.

"Isn't this a crazy coincidence?" Arizona said brightly, completely unfazed. If the other two were just going to stand there, practically dumb, she was happy to take over the conversation. "I mean, _what _are the odds that April would even move into the same building as you, Robert? Let alone the apartment right next to yours."

He made a noncommittal sound in his throat, almost a grunt, and Arizona glanced between the two other doctors. Robert continued to stare in consternation at April, who seemed to be avoiding his eyes, still looking at Arizona instead as if waiting for some cue for how to feel about this.

"Actually, this is perfect," Arizona continued, characteristically upbeat, and had to struggle not to laugh as two puzzled and horrified faces turned toward her in synchronized disbelief. "We were just discussing Dr. Stark's stage 3A lung cancer patient, didn't I read that you're the resident on that case, Dr. Kepner?"

April's awkwardness suddenly disappeared, forgotten, and her gaze switched from Arizona to Stark, now meeting his eyes fearlessly. "You're talking about Ben?" she asked with a sharp focus. He pursed his lips, hesitating a second before nodding his head in confirmation, and even Arizona could see the clear warning in his eyes. April hesitated for an instant too, before asking another question, and this time the concern in her voice was smothered in professionalism. "Is Dr. Robbins consulting on the next step in his surgical treatment?"

"Actually," Robert said, "I'm using her as a sounding board to decide whether or not to recommend him for the John Hopkins clinical trial." April's eyes widened at that, but she said nothing.

Arizona asked curiously, "You told her about the trial already?"

Robert gazed at April for another long instant, then looked at Arizona and replied in measured tones, "Dr. Kepner is the one who first told me about the trial, in fact. She wasn't happy with the prognosis of _the patient_, and went looking for other options." He glanced back at April briefly during the stressed words, and her face fell a bit. Arizona wondered what part of this story she was missing.

"Oh, well, good work, Kepner," Arizona said enthusiastically anyway, "the trial is looking very promising."

April's eyes lit up, hopeful, and Robert frowned at Arizona and added, "Though I haven't decided whether it's the patient's best shot."

The words were dry, but his use of the singular pronoun was a clear, if mild, rebuke, and Arizona wanted to roll her eyes...but he _was_ still technically her boss, after all. "Right," she said, her voice a bit more tempered, "the trial is impressive, but it's not yet clear if it's a good candidate for his treatment."

Feeling suddenly devilish, a bit rebellious from Stark's grumpy show of authority, Arizona turned to April and continued, "Actually, Dr. Kepner, if you're not busy right now, maybe you could come over, sit down with us. I'm familiar with the case from reading the file, but as the resident on the case, you'll have spent more time with the patient than Dr. Stark has, and I'd like to pick your brain about all the little things that never get coded into the file."

Robert's mouth dropped open slightly, but he recovered quickly and merely said mildly, "Not a bad idea. I'm sure there's enough curry for three." He turned to April as well, raising an eyebrow in question. He tried to keep his expression calm and detached, even as he imagined the various ways in which that stupid grin might get wiped off of Arizona's face.

"Oh," April faltered, glancing between them. Was something going on here? Robert looked mildly pissed, but then, he often did, and Arizona seemed as cheery as ever. "Um, sure, I guess. I mean, I'm not busy, I was just enjoying a bit of wine" - she lifted the glass, as if to provide corroborating evidence - "before starting dinner myself, so..." she trailed off.

"Good," Robert said brusquely. "That's settled, then. Well, I have to stir." And abruptly, he walked off the balcony through the still open door, leaving Arizona and April alone once more.

"Well," said April awkwardly. "I guess I'll just...take care of some things here, and...be over in a few minutes." She didn't move yet, hoping for some kind of guidance.

But Arizona just smiled impishly at her, and said, "This is going to be great."

_**.**_

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_****** Please review. ******_


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